The Hedingham Chronicles - Book 1 - Walk of Fire
by AuthorKylie
Summary: 2013 Rewrite - In a world destroyed by a nuclear holocaust that had been the hope to obliterate a plague of Dragons, two young men lead separate lives in small communities scattered across the globe as pocket safe-havens against the Dragons. One will undertake a daring journey to lead his loved ones to safety; the other a road of unraveling his very existence.
1. Prologue

_**NOTES:**_

_Hey folks – so – this is my new rewrite of __**The Hedingham Chronicles: Book One – Walk of Fire.**__ I thought it was about time that I took a slice and dice to it and rewrote it. I'm actually having a heck of a lot of fun! You can expect the updates to be rather regular, and the story to be somewhat different and yet following the general same line. I'm just improving it and expanding upon it and hopefully tiding it up a bit as well! _

_The old version will remain, because, well, it's a good way to show how you can grow and expand and improve as you learn and develop as a writer! And that is what I believe in – in encouragement, imagination, and stories! That even though so much can hold me back, I'm still going to write great stories to entertain people. I like this one, so I think it deserves a good rewrite. Thus. Here we go! _

_I hope you enjoy it! _

_Thank you all,_

_KL_

_**Summary:**_

In a world destroyed by a nuclear holocaust that had been the hope of humanity to obliterate a plague of Dragons, two young men lead separate lives in the small communities scattered across the globe as pocket safe-havens against the Dragons, radiation and crazed Humans. One will undertake a daring journey to lead his loved ones to safety; the other struggles on the confusing road of unraveling his very existence.

Together they'll uncover the mystery of their connected ancient pasts, learn who they had once been, win over the hearts of the hardened, and scarred world to bring a peace they only dreamed of and find a home where all can be safe.

This is their story.

The walk of fire...

The Chronicles of Hedingham.

_Our tale is one of tragedy,  
The Earth baptized in fire.  
Gone the mighty cities,  
Gone the mighty nations,  
Cometh the Great Tribulation!_

_We thought our enemy would be ourselves,  
Did we ever expect the enemy slept below?  
Did I ever expect to awaken…  
Did I ever expect…  
Dragons_

_No.  
We were not ready.  
You are never ready.  
Run.  
Hide.  
Find Water, Shelter.  
Get underground.  
Run.  
For pities sake, you fools,  
Run!_

**Prologue: Rising**

_Year – October 2009_

The golden dunes, kissed warm by the heat of the long day, loitered around Yugi's bare feet as he wiggled his tiny toes into the grains. Whooping he gleefully skidded his way down toward the encampment of scattered excavation tents around the old temple ruins.

Twilight's alluring hues danced across the fabrics of the marquees, splaying the world with color. He skipped through the shambles, ducking and weaving between ropes. A squeak left his lips as he latched tight to the trousers of a tall man, bearing a pot of steaming tea on an old tray.

The dying sunlight tinted the man's graying hair an odd azure, strands of the abused curls layered around weather hardened features.

Yugi was graced with a smile, "Hello there Yugi, my boy. I see you have been down by the ford again. Catch any frogs?"

Yugi pouted, "No, but Ryou and Malik did! I don't think frogs like me."

"Oh tish-tosh, everyone likes you." His mane of wild hair was ruffled. "Even frogs could not resist that adorable face of yours. Now, dinner is being served, are you going to join us, or—"

"I will find Jii-chan!" Yugi squealed. He swept aside his golden bangs. "Can I Uncle Alfred, can I?"  
Alfred knelt, balancing his tray expertly with one hand. Yugi bit his lips, hugging his hands to his chest. Uncle Alfred always looked so proper, even though they all lived in the desert! It was so weird.

He never got his lovely clothes dirty, even though Yugi always tore his pants, and never, ever managed to keep a pair of shoes on whatever he did.

He was so silly.  
Yugi giggled, curling his toes.  
"Well, I believe the last time I saw your Grandfather he was still down in the tunnels, you can go fetch him and tell him it's dinner."

"Hai, hai Uncle!" Yugi shouted, swinging about smartly and pelting through the tents.

"Be careful, Yugi Motou."

He barely heard the call from behind as he bounded over fallen pillars and over the cobbled stones of the ancient temple that had been his home since he had been five. Jii-chan had brought him here, to this wonderful, magical place in Egypt when his parents had died, to live with him, Uncle Alfred and little Ryou, Uncle's son, who sometimes went home to England to be with his sick mother.

He preferred it here, Ryou did, with their friend Malik—they were all happy, exploring the Temple.  
For an eight year old boy the sands of Egypt was a playground of great magnitude, expanding his imagination, tanning his skin golden-brown, and showing him freedom to run as far as he could see.

He loved the world of the sands, but most of all he loved Jii-chan—Solomon Motou was everything to him.  
Yugi passed the main doors, entering the tunnels into the deep underground lairs they had opened only a few months ago. Jii-chan had been so excited, it was as if the world had suddenly all made sense to the old man that day when they had pulled down the walls to reveal the hidden tombs below the upper levels.

Yugi had not really liked the giant eye painted on the old doorway, it glowed blue, like a warning, everything was like a warning to him. He told Jii-chan it was a stupid place, a bad idea, but Jii-chan had laughed and said they were finding the lost city of the Ancients.

The Ancients were Ancient for a reason, personally—that's what Ryou said, and Ryou was really smart.  
The darkness in the catacombs of the tombs was not really that scary, because there was light. It was from these special types of ogle-lights, well, that was what his friend Malik called them. They were netted across the walls, humming softly. Yugi jogged in their dull haze, following the muffled sound of voices until he saw two figures crouched in front of a beautiful mural and a hole cracked within the surface of it.

What a shame, the mural was so pretty and now it was ruined by such an ugly looking hole.

"Jii-chan!" Yugi shouted.

The short old man ahead turned sharply, revealing in the dim ogle-lights, a tussled gray beard and frazzled hair bundled back in a yellow bandanna. He looked taken aback and Yugi beamed, proud to have caused such bewilderment. The shock vanished quickly, being replaced under the rim of thick glasses with delightful warmth.

Yugi threw his arms around Solomon, burrowing his head into the stinky overalls. It was so funny how Jii-chan wore such goofy clothes. Maybe that was why he always looked goofy too! Even though the old man looked so bedraggled though, there was one thing that was out of place in his shambled appearance. It was the pretty azure crystal loose around his neck. Yugi had always wondered what it was ever since he had seen it, since Jii-chan wore it so proudly, but Jii-chan never said anything about it.

Silly Jii-chan.

"Hello there, Yugi! My little bright ray of sunshine." Solomon heaved him into the air, twirling him about. "What are you doing down here?"

Yugi flapped his arms about, "Uncle Alfred sent me to find you, cause it's dinner."

"Ah well, being the proper English Lord he is, Mr. Bakura would know what the time is." Solomon chuckled, glancing at his companion in mirth.

Yugi only grinned as Malik's father agreed. The huge Egyptian man standing beside the small hole in the wall nodded. "Indeed, we would never get out of here if Alfred never reminded us."

"True!" Solomon smirked.

Yugi peered at the darkness in the hole that ruined the pretty mural. There was a deep breathing coming from within it, as though the world was sleeping. Looking at the two adults chattering above him, it was apparent that they did not seem to notice this.

Yugi continued to grin, hoping it was simply nothing. He had a silly imagination after all. It was nothing.

His friend Malik was only a year older than him, and his father was a strong man, just like Malik was! Though Malik had really blond hair, which Yugi was sure was not real, because Mr. Malik Dad's had long black hair so Malik really should have had black hair too. Beside Jii-chan, Mr. Malik's Dad's was a giant, and Yugi always felt safe with him, because he was a warrior who protected the Temple. His people had protected it for a really, really, really long time. Or so Malik said.

"Alfred should be down here, Solomon. Maybe we should get him." The accent of Mr. Malik's Dad was a little odd, but considering how long he had been around the Temple people, Yugi understood it easy enough. Besides, he, Malik and Ryou played Dragons and Pharaohs enough for him to understand Malik!

"This could be the break through we've been look for, Solomon. All our years of searching and maybe this is it?"  
Were they talking about the ugly hole in the pretty mural? Because seriously, it was a hole.

Solomon's chest expanded. "True, maybe we should go back and get him and he might need to call Arthur, all the Inklings should be here for this but then again—" Solomon pouted, "—we could be wrong, it might just get their hopes up. I wouldn't want to bring Arthur out here just to see nothing."

"What is it Jii-chan—gomen." Yugi gasped, he bowed his head in shame, "I did not mean to cut you off."

Jii-chan ruffled his hair, "It's alright Yugi. Come, have a closer look."  
Solomon urged him forward and knelt beside him as they both peered into the darkness of the hole. Yugi frowned. So it was a tunnel too, not just a hole. Bleh. There was a foul tasting scent in the air from within it.

"Is there a mummy inside?" He tipped his head up, scrunching up his nose, "Because it smells!"  
"That is what we're trying to figure out." Solomon clicked a small torch from the uility belt around his waist. He pointed it through the murkiness, but the light was swallowed up by the thickness of the gloom. Yugi tilted up his head.

"Can't you make the hole bigger?" Yugi offered.

"Too worried the whole place will come down." Beside them both Mr. Malik's Dad answered.

"Can we go inside?" Yugi peered at the hole-tunnel. It would fit him, and likely it would fit Jii-chan as well. They were both very small. "We would both fit! He exclaimed and pointed to his shoulders.

"Oh, please Jii-chan, can we just take a look, please!"

Solomon rubbed at his chin, looking up at Mr. Malik's Dad.

"Well, since we're down here I suppose we can take a gander, just to see if it's worth further poking around at. Then if it isn't what we think it is, Arthur won't have reason to leave his dying daughter."

"Makes sense." Mr. Malik's Dad stood and moved toward a gathering of equipment. "Rope for you, to tie yourselves together…"

Yugi squealed softly. Yes! He was going on an adventure with Jii-chan!

"Thank you Azeri." Solomon accepted the rope. He hooked it around Yugi's middle, tightening it, before doing the same to himself. He cast it back to Mr. Malik's Dad and shuffled toward the tunnel.

Yugi turned as Azeri passed him a torch and he grinned up at him.

"Be careful, Little Fire."

"I will, Mr. Malik's Dad!" Yugi beamed. He wiggled after Jii-chan into the gloom of the tunnel. It was not so scary with the torch light, and the glow of Jii-chan's light ahead of him. Jii-chan made things safe anyway.

The walls and floor under him should have been dry like the rest of the tomb, but it felt oddly wet and sticky. Ewww. Ryou would not like this one bit, he would be wailing on about how his pretty white hair would be getting all gross, and his clothes were getting dirty. Oh well, at least he was not like Ryou and he liked getting dirty!

Still, the icky smell, like Jii-chan's unwashed socks, became only more potent the deeper they went. He heard the old man swear from up ahead and giggled at the naughty string of words.

They had come to the end of the tunnel, and it appeared that Jii-chan had fallen down a small lip into a larger cavern that echoed.

"Alright, come along Yugi." Solomon hooked his large hand's under Yugi's arm-pits and heaved him out of the tunnel.

He was propped down on a smooth stone floor, bare feet wiggling into the cool wetness. It was as though everything was covered in a layer of water.

Solomon flashed his light around, revealing the chamber. Yugi hung close to his side, eyes wide in awe at the artworks scattered over the walls and pillars stretching beyond their small bodies framed by the magnitude of the cavity. All of this was under the Temple? How was that possible?

"Yes!" Jii-chan erupted into a shout. "Yes! Yugi! Yes! We did it!" He laughed.

Yugi laughed too. Not really sure why, but Jii-chan was happy, so he was happy too.

"We found it, my boy, we found it!" His cheeks were clasped and his forehead was kissed.  
Hand in hand they snaked their way around the chamber, through the scattered treasure and artifacts lying across the floor.

Solomon began to note down scrawled translations of wordings from the murals, taking photos with the tiny pocket camera, "This is very interesting Yugi. I think it tells a story, hmmm, the one I did my PhD on back…a long time ago now." He chuckled.

Yugi pointed, "Look! A Dragon!" He dashed over to a painted image burned red upon a golden brick. It was intricate, not the same manner of the Egyptian paintings he was used to, considering how realistic it appeared.

"Ohhhh! It looks so scary, Jii-chan."

Solomon nodded and snapped a photo. "Possibly a depiction of one of the Dragon Lords, Yugi. I believe this was Heba, the god of Fire."

Yugi frowned at the name. He tipped back on his heels, looking around at the dark ceiling. "Heba and…and…Ryu…and…and…the Dragon Pharaoh too!" He blinked at the flash of the camera.

Jii-chan chuckled at him.  
"My boy, you are listening too many of my stories."

"I like your stories Jii-chan. They are about heroes and Dragons and brave knights and pretty queens. Are you trying to show everyone your stories are real?"

"Now that would be rather preposterous!" Solomon snorted. "It'd be like proving I was the son of a king. Oh, now look, what do we have here?" From the glare of the flash of the camera, Solomon twisted around. Yugi dashed after him as he trotted swiftly down a path toward a pedestal.

Yugi screwed up his face, sticking out his tongue as his bare feet slid in a slimy substance across the ground. It squished between his toes, and tingled as though it was trying to burn.

He ignored it—Jii-chan had not mentioned it—it must not have been important.  
The old man was carefully checking over the pedestal for traps. He stepped away, pouting. With a shrug he picked up the golden box atop it.

"Jii-chan!" Yugi stuck a modified pose. "Your fingers could damage it!"

Solomon waved him off. "Not the time, Yugi." He knelt beside him and revealed the artifact. Yugi's eyes widened, all horror at Jii-chan's devilry vanishing. All his young life he had been shown treasures and he knew that forever, which was such a very long time, that he would always search for treasure like Jii-chan—like this treasure, with its magical red eye encased in gold.

"This, I believe Yugi, used to belong to the Dragon Pharaoh."

"The Dragon Pharaoh!" Yugi squealed.

"Yes." Solomon gave his hair a ruffled. "It must hold the Inverted Pyramid, one of the Seven ancient artifacts made of the Dragon's golden Tears—"

"Like Ryou's Ring?"

Yugi grabbed Solomon's arm.

Jii-chan raised an eyebrow, "Just like Ryou's Ring."

"Ohhh, Jii-chan! I want to see inside of the box?"

"Not right now, there is not enough light." Solomon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, remember the story," his eyes grew distant and Yugi pouted. Now he would never get to see inside of the box! Jii-chan was in story mode and he would take the box away and all his old-farty friends would ohhh-and-ahhhh all over it and it would go into a Musueam and he would never get to see inside of it, ever!

"The legend said the young Pharaoh made a pact with the Dragons of old. I believe, as do some others in my field, my boy, that the young Pharaoh discovered a way to communicate with the beasts, to understand them not as monsters…and he bridged the gap between man and beast. Yugi, what is wrong?"

"You're boring Jii-chan."

Solomon beamed brightly. "Really! I take you into an awesome place like this and I am boring?"

Yugi puffed out his cheeks. "No…not really."

Jii-chan hugged him and Yugi giggled.

"Come along, let's get back to Azeri, before he worries and sends in a search party."

Yugi nodded, taking Jii-chan's hand. He paused, tiny body freezing mid-movement. Blood rushed from his cheeks. Sweat flushed across his skin, chilling his body. Through the darkness, staring at him, a large eye red eye peered deep into him.

"Yugi? What is wrong?" Jii-chan took his shoulder, shaking him.

"Jii-chan…" Yugi squeaked.

Solomon turned. He gasped, staggered back a pace. Yugi felt himself snatched up like a limp doll as they both stared at the eye. It vanished. A foul tasting wind brushed past.  
A light flared in the darkness.

Yugi screamed as liquid splattered over them. He clawed at his eyes, frantically trying to clear his vision. The ground began to rumble as the light of a flaring fire behind them ignited.

The shape of a shadowed beast moved and snaked in the dim light of their dropped torches. Solomon was unmoving for a moment, covered in the thick slime, Yugi could not tell what was going on. Was Jii-chan afraid? Was Jii-chan angry?

Then Jii-chan moved. Yugi shrieked as he was roughly yanked. He had never felt Jii-chan move so fast. Through the chamber the old man ran, bearing his weight over his shoulder. They reached the tunnel and Yugi scrambled into it, ignoring the scraping of his knees and feet as Jii-chan shoved him onward. They scurried blindly, following the tunnel. Something was behind them, Yugi was sure of it in his panic. It was pickling the slime on his skin, heating it as if trying to ignite it. A roar bellowed.

They tumbled out into the tombs.

Solomon staggered onto his feet. Yugi felt his arms snatched and he was bundled into Jii-chan's chest. Sound was muffled, but he heard the old man yell.

"Azeri! Run!"

A shattering blast erupted around them, fire consuming the tombs. Flaming stones rained down around them. Solomon darted between the debris, choking back the smoke. Yugi screeched, watching as Azeri's body vanished in the combusting air of swelling, mutated shadows that burst free of the cascading flames.

Jii-chan ran. The faintly glowing crystal around his neck lit their path. Yugi bounced in his arms. He did not want to look back at the heat behind them, nor forward at the never ending tombs ahead. The ground was rumbling, the ceiling collapsing, and every shadow looked as though it wanted to eat them.

Daylight flared ahead. Yugi called for it.

Jii-chan ran faster, even though he was gasping.

They burst out. Yugi curled into a ball as the sound of a high-pitched screech wailed past, and with it, the scorching scent of oil and flames. Fire sent them flying across the gravel and sand, rolling, rolling and more rolling. Shadows surged about them, splurging and tasting like ash and yucky things.  
The noise died away instantly. The tornado evaporated.

Yugi lay still, panting heavily. His eyes were burning, his entire head ached. He could not see anything but the hazy shape of Jii-chan's heavy body over his own. It was limp, weighed, and it smelt foul. He scrambled free, shaking the shoulders—why were they wet, hot, no, no, sticky, this was wrong!  
Everything smelt like the kitchen after Malik had burnt the chickens.

"Jii-chan," he whispered. "Jii-chan…"

Voices from ahead echoed in his ears. They sounded really far away, but in his blurry vision, Uncle Alfred's face appeared. It had to be Uncle Alfred, because his hair was blue.

"Yugi…" He was pulled away from Jii-chan. He struggled.  
"No! Jii-chan! No!"  
"Yugi, it's alright. You're burned, we have got to get you to the hospital—"  
"Jii-chan!" He screeched, "Uncle, I want Jii-chan—"  
"Darling," Uncle Alfred lifted him, "he is not going to wake up."

Clawing at the shirt he was pressed against Yugi sobbed. Alfred was speaking to people, their voices were all blurred together now. They were speaking about Dragons, the darkness, the awakening, terrible things, and about

Jii-chan. He closed his eyes. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, everything would go away.  
"Yugi."  
He blinked, blurry gaze shifting down. What was that? He still could not see it clearly. Wait. It was the gold box. It was pressed softly into his hands by cold, small fingers—Ryou's fingers. He shoved it back.

"No. The red-eyes are evil." He croaked weakly. "I don't want that thing near me. I want my Jii-chan."  
The Dragon Pharaoh had been wrong.  
Dragons were bad.  
Jii-chan was dead.  
He curled into Uncle Alfred's arms, and cried.


	2. Chapter 1 - Red Eyes

The Hedingham Chronicles

Walk of Fire

**~Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it ~**

000000000

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**Chapter 1: Red Eyes**

_Location: Hedingham Castle, Essex – Level 5 _

_Date: 2028_

_I do not know why I find it so strange that I have kept this journal for you to read for so many years now. These records, my dearest children, will be important; because someday, when I'm not around anymore, it might help you finish the job I have started here._

_I don't want you to be afraid of this new world in which you live but I also don't want you to look back at what the elders tell you was before the Great Tribulation and marvel at it._

_I just, I just really want you to understand._

_Knowledge, you see, is the only weapon we Humans have left._

_In the beginning it was our ignorance that destroyed us. They raged across land, water and ice, consuming all regardless of status, race, religion and location. No one was safe! Millions swarmed like locusts. We had no clue as to how they spawned so fast._

_They burned the Earth with elements we could never know nor understand._

_They were driven only by one purpose:_

_Too FEED._

_Even then we couldn't believe they were real, because ancient man had just made them into myths. I know right? You think that's nuts! But yes, we thought back then they were stories, just like the stories we tell you today._

_Oh but nature had made these creatures so much more terrifying than anything we could ever could have imagined._

_To late our scientists discovered their true identity; a species that burned the dinosaurs to dust, who's ash had brought on an Ice Age, who in eon's past had scorched the Earth clean of all life, then starved and slept. _

_Waiting—waiting for the world to replenish itself, waiting to start their cycle again._

_Our weapons shot back at them. _

_Yet for every one of them we killed, a hundred more took its place._

_They just seemed invulnerable._

_We could only look on in horror as our leaders used their greatest arsenal against them._

_In the end…_

_We only helped them._

_The whole world burned._

_You have to understand our past, my children, because you will decide our future._

_They are wild and untamed now, roaming to kill, to burn._

_They are growing stronger, if not braver, for their being so few Humans to fear them. Oh, but you will meet some Humans, the Slayers, the legendary few who can singlehandedly take on a menace. If ever you meet one, you better thank them for your life because those Dragons are more dangerous now than ever…_

_But we have to survive._

_We have got to on._

_We have to outlast them!_

_Only one species is getting out of this alive._

The blotting paper fluttered away in the soft wind. Yami stirred, watching as it sailed down the battlement, across the bailey and into the apple tree orchid to be lost amongst the leaves. He tapped his quill pen thoughtfully on the stone barricade. It was a slight change in the wind, so subtle few would notice it but the taste of ash was there, like a bitter afterthought to his journal entry.

He breathed out, clapping shut his small, leather bound book and propped it back into the pouch around his hips. Gathering up the remainder of his writing gear he eased himself out of the small cove in the battlement wall and stretched. His worn leather pants were covered in a thin layer of soot. He dusted it off before collapsing against the wall, staring over the horizon across the distant moorlands.

The sight from aloft Hedingham Keep was not often a welcoming one to most. Few could get comfort out of seeing the sunset, when life was so difficult and left such gaping holes in many lives.

What was left of Humanity had fled the major cities and the falling ash; gone into hiding, clustering into small communities and safe-zones, dying out day by day.

Each was a little world of its own, with rules of its own, with ways of surviving the Dragons and the dangerous radiation contaminated world beyond their borders.

Society had crumbled to its knees, and it had been replaced with mayhem.

Technology was limited, supplies were scarce and water was toxic.

The air was like a thick yellow haze of vomit; filled with gases and fumes in some areas he was told.

It was just…silent out there sometimes. A deafening sound, like a breath being held, waiting to be exhaled, a final breath of death—truly yes, the sunset was not a pretty thing, it was sad.

Yami breathed out deeply, scrubbing a hand through his hair. The chilled evening air caught his breath as it floated away in a small cloud over the battlement. He moved slowly over the cold brick work and watched as the last rays of the twilight vanished beyond the hills.

Hedingham Keep was his home.

A home of quite a community that had gathered over the years his father had built up the surrounding area as a strong haven.

Once it had once been a Norman Keep—it had been built by a man named Aubrey de Vere. He did not know much of its history, since history itself was something long forgotten about, but he at least knew who had built their home. That he was somewhat proud of. Though it had four stories above ground, what was truly their world was the underground network created like the lair of an ants nest. That was where the everyday living of the surviving Humanity dwelled.

Rubbing together his gloved hands, he blew into his visible fingertips.

Even in the gray light of the English dying day his skin was dark, as if he was damp like a tree's bark in a morning mist. It was too bad that he just could not remember anything about his home-land of Egypt, of the hot sun there, or the warm sand. His father never spoke of it, though the shelves in his room were full of historical documents and ancient dead languages.

They were very little alike as father and son, different hair lengths, different skin, different eyes—they were just polar opposites. Where his father was tall and broad, he was short and slender of stature, though he could boast of having good physical strength; he was not actually that much to look at while his father dominated a room.

He was so easily passed over, so easily accidently not there.

He was not sure if it was because he hid behind his oddly colored hair, or hid behind his armor, or just hid in general—besides, it was hard to not be outshined; his father was like a king of old, who upheld to rules and regulations like clock-work and he, the son, was a new kind of king, the cunning and the ghostly kind who did not fear getting dirty and stained with blood if it meant protecting that which he sheltered.

He would gladly stab someone in the back if he had too. His father really did not like that idea.

But in this new world, well, sometimes you had to get your hands dirty—really dirty.

Darker colors were colors the knights in the Keep wore; more of the attire was usually black, as if they were always in mourning for the world they had lost—rather pitiful of them really.

His damned hair, as long as it was, always ended up a mane of infuriating colors. Yellow was like painting a giant target on your chest, they had learnt that from the small yellow cars they had once used as Dragon bait.

Still, it paid not to have blond hair as a knight.

He eased away from the wall, moving back toward the doorway. He caught the faintest glitter of the environmental-shield and smiled for a moment—they were still safe.

Snatching up his broad-sword and dragon-pistol he reattached them to his shoulders before slipping into the corridor down below, dropping into the warmth of the Keep.

The world had reverted back into an almost medieval state. In many regards, he was considered an Earl's son. His father owned the Keep, the land around it and allowed people to live upon it if they paid a form of tribute. He as the Earl's son was looked up to by those around him to protect them and keep them safe, a task he, and those he had chosen as his knights, continued to do with vigor.

Yami smiled faintly as he spied his trusted friend lazing on a bench. They had saved each other's lives countless times in battle, always fueled each other's emotions—be it rage, passion or terror.

His real name as Felix Kal-mar—just as his was Atemu Amir—but they always went by their knighted names.

His brother-in-arms was Bakura, the White Knight of Aten's Court, and very rarely did they ever leave the other's side. He stood tall, and was an elegant type of fellow with pale white hair pulled back tight to reveal narrow features, dark and brooding. He was skilled with twin-blades, which Yami preferred to never go near when he was welding them. The guy was a lunatic.

He had flopped over the bench, small black Bible in hand. In his mouth he idly chewed a strap of leather from his black overcoat, eyes scanning the pages he flipped through.

"What are you doing, Bakura?"

"Waiting for you," Bakura grunted. "You were having your private time." He did not look up, simply continued to read. "The children wish us to continue the play tonight. We should not disappoint them."

Yami sighed. True enough. He hated disappointing the children. Their adorable little faces were just too cute to pass up.

Bakura slowly looked up at him, raising his pale eyebrows, odd for skin so russet. His red eyes shined brilliant in the nearby lantern light. Yami narrowed his lips. It had always been a fascinating thing between them both, their akin red eyes. People would remark that they were like the Dragons that they hunted. Maybe that was why they made such good Slayers, because of their eyes.

"Why the long face, your highness?" Bakura snorted.

"What? No, nothing." Yami waved a hand.

Bakura stood; flipping shut his Bible and slipping it into a pouch in his belt. Yami winced as his shoulder was slapped and a heavy arm slung around him, weighing him down as Bakura leant against him in a brotherly fashion. He was a good couple feet taller, and from years of welding iron blades, and heavy manual labor, could have been made out of solid stone.

"Get off, you're as heavy as a bear!"

"How would you know how heavy a bear is?" Bakura clasped him around the middle, heaving him high off the ground. "Have you ever seen one, wrestled one…I don't think so."

Yami elbowed him sharply. Bakura wheezed and released him.

"Twig."

"Shut up."

"Tell me, has Seto managed to increase the shield strength?" The White Knight ambled along beside him as he started up an elegant stroll, straightening up his tunic.

"I don't think so. I caught a scent of ash while I was up there."

Bakura hissed bitterly. "Just great, guess we're on guard duty all night."

The shield—their high-tech de-scenting equipment and environmental dome were all part of the reasons why their community had thrived so abundantly.

Seto Kaiba was an inventor. Once he had been a strong and powerful business-man who had been traveling to England on a business trip when the first wave of attacks had started.

Somehow the man had ended up being drawn to Hedingham Keep and it was only through the sheer-genius of the young scientist that they had the power and the technology to create their shield.

It was a force-field that encompassed the entire castle grounds and some of its outlining bailey, hence why within the shield the moorlands and trees were green and lush, yet everything became stony and dead directly outside of the shield where the air was toxic with fumes of sulfur and ash.

"It would appear so my friend."

"Ah well, there are worst things than staying up late with you," Bakura sneered.

"Bring out the ale." Yami chuckled.

They rounded a corner, catching sight of the main entrance to the great hall. Yami clapped a hand upon Bakura's shoulder.

"Ready to bring down the house?"

"I shall once again take up my role as Lord Sharon!" Thrusting his fist out Bakura cackled a maddened laugh.

Yami shook his head. "I think you enjoy being the bad-guy far too much, Bakura."

"Who knows, old friend." Bakura gave his chest a soft pat, though something in his tone made Yami sure his friend was not at all jesting, "Maybe in some alternate reality I am the bad guy."

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It was almost impossible to breathe in the tight, heavy, hot air of the thin tunnels, lit only by the faint glowing tiny torches and slightly flickering light globes starved of power. Everything smelt slightly foul, scented with coal that choked the lungs.

Sweat streaked lines down Yugi's grimy skin, the haze of coal in the air stinking to nearly everything damp. He wiped a hand over his bare chest, smearing the liquid and flicking it aside. He gasped, tensing muscles as he swung the pickaxe and sent rocks tumbling with each shattering blow to the wall.

His cracked lips split as he hissed, rubbing his bangs aside. He tilted back, giving a shout as he swung again, breaking the earth with the strength of the swing. A bitter smirk caught the edges of his cheeks and he propped himself back wearily, leaning on the pickaxe. Just a couple more inches and he would surely break through to the water supply.

"Oie! Yugi! Come and have a look at this." A gruff shout graveled through aged lungs.

Yugi crinkled his brow. It could wait till tomorrow. He lifted the heavy tool over his shoulder and wandered back toward the slightly brighter light down the tunnel.

A tall, grouchy and slightly bent old man came into view, waving at him happily with some excitement gleaming in his eyes as he played with pipes lining the ceiling of the interlinking tunnels of the mines.

Yugi jumped, lifting himself up with one arm. The pipe was cool to his hand, soothing the hardened, blistered skin.

"What's up, Garry?"

"It's a straight drop from the water-tower now," the old man reached up, fingering the piping as though it was a precious jewel. "Just reach up and pull the plug in the tower, and hundred gallons of water per minute hits the walls!"

"I don't care about that," Yugi swung back and forth, kicking the old man playfully, "twelve hundred centigrade. Can it take it?" He raised his eyebrows.

Garry's old Scottish accent broke through for a moment as he battered Yugi's chest, "Yah, sure it can! Remember, I use to build blast furnaces for a living. I know about fire, you wee little mite."

Yugi dropped, throwing a grin and slapping Garry's shoulder as he brushed past, "Sure you do mate. Thanks. Keep up the good work."

It was the same. All the old men had all had jobs before Tribulation. At least Garry's was useful, at least the old guy did not have to just sit around and do nothing, he could use his hands, he could help the community. Yugi sniffed, brushing at his hair. He must have looked like hell. He really needed a bath. He wandered through the tunnel's slightly larger opening and watched the movement of bodies, the workers rumbling around with their allocated tasks. Carefully his eyes picked out three young men sitting in a darkened corner, pickaxes resting across their knees as they whispered softly to each other.

His glare hardened, it was unavoidable, he just simply could not help it as he walked past them. With some small amount of shame but mostly disgust at their jobs they gathered their tools and scattered to their work stations.

Yugi snorted. Seriously. All they had to do was work a bit for their food and lodging. Was it that much of an ask—was it?

He rubbed his aching shoulders. Sometimes he forget that he was petite, a fragile frame for a man, apparently, well according to everyone around him. It never did deter him in his physical labor. His strength could match anyone his age and twice his size. He had proven this, time and time again. This community was part of his responsibility; there would be no way he would lack in his strength when everyone counted on him to uphold it.

If little whiny brats wailed about their work-load, then he had to work harder. He set his pickaxe aside and found his shirt, sliding it carefully over his shoulders. It caught on his burns. His fingertips brushed at the ruined skin down his side—what did Ryou call them—his first battle-scars. He smiled faintly. He had so many more now, they were almost countless, but half his back he had lost to that Dragon, the first Dragon. At least he had just lost his skin, his grandfather had lost his life.

He tilted his head as a commotion sounded.

A man rushed through the entranced of the mine, snagging his shoulders and shaking him.

"Yugi! Richard has gone nuts."

Yugi's eyes widened and he shoved past the man. He vanished up the ramp, dashing through the interlocking inclines and iron stairs through the center of the castles insides.

People moved from his road as he ran, giving them faint smiles of reassurance encase they thought a Dragon was attacking. He was not out to cause that kind of panic today. In the distance as he darted he caught Peter's usual amblings, the old man dressed his abbot robes rambled on about the burnings of hell's fires. He waved as he passed the graying priest.

"Yep! I know Peter, Tribulation has come! Some pre-warning would have been fantastic. Give God my best regards will you. Thanks." he shouted, skipping two steps at a time.

He broke into the gray light of the day, shivering from the chill in the air as it instantly caught his still sweaty skin smeared with dirt and coal. No one would have been able to see his pale skin and oddly hued hair from the grit that covered him. He ran past a guard who stood to sudden attention, shouting as he vanished.

"What's up Yugi?"

"Tell you later Joey."

Picking up his speed through the bailey, skipping over the stones of the old roadways, Yugi panted heavily as he ran toward the barriers holding the jeeps for harvesting. He watched the movement inside and quickly dashed through the mesh covering, confronting the man who paused from kissing his little blond haired daughter. He set her upon the ground as he turned slowly toward him, long cape draped across the muddied ground.

"What are you doing Richard?" Yugi gasped out, bending over, regaining his breath.

He flicked his gaze over the jeeps, laden with boxes for harvest. A couple other men were cloaked up, bearing rifles, looking ready to be stupid idiots. It was not a good day to go out, he wondered if they could even tell that? God their heads were screwed on backward.

"Me and a few men are going harvesting." Richard motioned to the jeeps.

Yugi furrowed his brow. He stood taller, brushing aside his bangs as he slowly walked forward. "No, you're not. We talked about this, it's too early. Most of the stuff isn't ripe. If you pick it now it won't germinate, that means no seeds for next season."

Richard snorted a growl, curling his upper lip into a sneer as he shifted forward, bearing down upon Yugi. Yugi clenched his hands, glaring up into the cold eyes, ignoring the height difference, ignoring the weapons around him.

"There won't be a next season when we all starve to death!" Richard spat into his face.

Yugi blinked at the spit. He had to keep his rage down. A line of it dribbled down his cheek, he ignored the memories flicking through his head, drawing his body into a chilled spiral. His life was in the present, not in the past.

"Richard, everyone agreed. We can do this. We just need to pull together."

"My family is starving—"

"Your family is only one part of this community. You go out there," Yugi threw an arm and pointed beyond the fence, "you are putting all of us in danger! I will not have this community put in jeopardy because you're being a donkey headed ass-hole."

Richard's cheeks turned a shade of dark red. "Why you little prick, you think that just because you have the ear of the lord of this bloody castle, you can call the shots!"

"No," Yugi snarled, standing on his toes as he punched a finger into the man's chest, "I don't. I call the shots because thick headed dicks like you go wandering will-nilly out and about and bring Tribulation down upon us! We decided on this Richard, we'll work together, we'll pull together, we'll out last THEM! So stand down!"

A small crowd was gathering and Yugi caught Joey's approach. The American's gritty face was distraught with worry as it usually always was. It was something endearing about the guy, he wore his emotions on his sleeves for everyone to see.

"Kid's can't eat hope Yugi." Richard hissed, "Edinburgh is gone. We haven't heard from anyone for two years. We're 'lone out here," Reach spread his hands, almost seeming to address the few gathered, "We may as well make the most of it."

"We don't know that, Richard," Yugi debated, "maybe we are all that's left, but we have to keep waiting, we have to survive."

"For eight years I've listened to you," Richard pointed, waggling a finger under his nose, "and for what. Two kids and a wife buried in the grave-yard. I'm not losing these Yugi." He motioned to his three gathered children, "Not when there is food out there."

Yugi snorted, hoisted himself up into the jeep. He snatched out the keys from the ignition and dangled them before Richard's face.

"You are not going anywhere, Richard. You are not the only one with family to think of. My son hasn't eaten anything but scraps for the past five days. So don't you preach at me."

"Give me the keys, Yugi."

"You bloody take them from me!" Yugi snapped.

The air tightened. He could feel it, like a tensing of strings between them. Richard was going to pounce on him at any moment, take out that knife he had under his shirt and strike at his neck, or his chest, or maybe even go for his weak point, his scarred arm. It was slow due to the scaring, everyone knew that.

The string snapped.

His feet shifted easily, his body moving with feline grace as Richard swung out a fist. That was new. He really thought he would go for the knife and commit an offense. Oh well. The scuffle was swift. Richard's wedding ring caught his cheek, cutting a keen slice through the skin. He swore, swinging up a leg, smashing it into the man's face and knocking him back, cracking his nose. He punched, smashing him into the ground. He made to snap his leg, to end it all, only he was grabbed by both his shoulders and dragged backward.

Joey's richly accented voice shouted.

"Hey, hey! 'nough already!"

Joey's ashy hair dangled over him he snagged him around the waist, hoisted him off the ground and threw into the mud. He was kicked like a disobedient dog. Joey kicked him again, barking sharply.

"Yugi! Calm down, or I'll sit on yeh, yeh little mutt."

Yugi heaved himself up, wiping off mud. He glared at Richard as he gathered himself to his feet, wiping blood from his face, sneering through his cracked lip.

"What? Couldn't finish the job, Slayer?"

Yugi moved, throwing a punch, hitting Richard across the jaw. Richard staggered back, landing in the mud again. Yugi spat blood, glaring at him slowly eyeing off the rest of the men.

"If you even dare, Richard, to attempt harvesting, I swear I will kill you! Do you hear me! I will kill you."

"This is a community, Yugi, not a prison." Richard hissed.

Joey interjected, grabbing Yugi and hauling him backward, kicking him aside.

The American snapped around to Richard. "The point is, you go out those gates, any of you, and you jeopardize this community, you can stay out there. Cause yeh ain't comin back."

Richard seemed to debate for a moment, going up against two fighters before he staggered away, giving a grumble as he wiped his mouth and chin of blood.

"Fine." He flashed a hand at the gathering of men around the jeeps and slowly he trudged away, throwing a glare back over his shoulder. Yugi countered it with icy snarl until Joey stood between them, grabbing his arm and moving him out of the jeep station.

"Damn yeh, Yugi! Stop picking fights."

"I can stand on my own Joey," Yugi snapped.

Joey swore, hitting him hard over the head. The force almost sent him into the mud again.

"Oh, aye, sure yah can. Runt! You're the greatest Slayer we know. Shut up, while I look at this cheek. Tah, it's gonna need Ryou—"

"Ryou's father isn't going to be around much longer to keep things going around here Joey, and Ryou is not the commanding type." Yugi battered Joey's hand aside, sliding down a wall and curling into his legs. "Damn it all, damn it, damn it. We are going to starve to death this winter. Damn it."

He heard Joey kneel, the sound of his patch-work pants rustling, that tell-tale grunt he made when his old wounded knee clicked. The American's large hands touched both his knees and squeezed them tight. Yugi breathed out between his teeth. Sometimes, he really did not deserve the endearing guidance of Joey Wheeler, the stranded American.

"Yugi, shut up. We're gonna be fine. We'll pull together, we'll get through. We always do."

Weakly he lifted his head, giving half a smile. "I know."

Joey ruffled his hair. "Listen, no one in a million years would have picked you for the commanding type, but hey, look at yeh. Yer the best at it." He grabbed his hands, heaving him to his feet. "Richard is going to cause trouble no matter what. We all know that."

"If he endangers this community and the people here, I will do what I must." Yugi sighed.

"I know Yugi, I know. Now yeh better go and report this to Alfred, and get Ryou to look at that cheek, or you'll come down with fever if yah let it go un-touched."

Yugi clapped his shoulder, "Thanks." He threw a back handed wave as he headed up to the main castle keep. Ash trickled down like snow, falling onto his cheeks as he tilted his head up, watching the warning hawk Malik kept glided across the castle bailey. What had once been a pristine beautiful of castle owned by Alfred Bakura had become an industrial waste-land of pipes and shacked houses. A yellowy-gray hue had settled over a country side that he once recalled had been green and lush. It was now barren and stony, a cold desert void of life.

The falling ash was always a constant reminder of what they feared, the shadows that ghosted their nightmares and even their dreams; the Dragons.

How often he trembled in horror of seeing the outline of stretched wings upon the horizon, the taste of the heat on his skin once more. Even now that giant red eye haunted his every movement.

He had seen the first and felt its flames and he would never forget.

Hissing Yugi touched his cheek, feeling the blood.

"Grandpa," he whispered, "please forgive me…forgive what I have become." He ducked into the interior of the keep, thankful for its warmth and comfort. It was as if, for a moment, the old man was hugging him again.

"I wish you were here."

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Ryou Bakura had grown into a very graceful man. If ballet still existed, Yugi was sure Ryou would have been a perfect ballet dancer. There was suppleness about his tall shape but therein was strength, for there was none of the smooth curves that were usually equated with a women, instead he was sharp and toned. Yugi supposed it was due to Uncle Alfred's instance that they each kept to a high standard, that they each knew how to defend the other in a time of dire need.

Ryou was no Dragon Slayer, but Ryou could kill a man, far easier than Yugi knew he ever could. Still, there was no denying it that Ryou was pretty to look at in this ugly world; he kind of just glowed with this lambent fairytale shine. Yugi really was not sure if it was due to his white hair, his soft skin, or if it was just because he was so happy around people even if he, inside, was crying.

He still had that perfection streak from when they had been children; his long, glossy hair was nearly always pulled back tight in a tail. His neat shirt was never stained, his pants were always clean. He was so damned handsome it was impossibly infuriating. Yugi wanted nothing more than to get mud and sling it at him, or to grab him and throw him into a pile of coal, just to see what would happen.

Would his beautiful brown eyes turn crazy blue or something if he got tainted? Maybe if he ate a poison apple he would die, who knew, they were in a world were Dragons existed, Ryou could have been a friggen Princess.

The children adored the socks of him, because he was so loving and understanding—or apparently patient, he apparently had loads of patience. Only with children though, adults, seemingly, should have known better.

Usually adults copped Ryou's furious temper. Yugi smirked. Oh, people thought he had a temper. Ryou's was worse by a mile. It could range from physical confrontation, to being drugged by any number of his herbal potions and having their fingers sown together.

They were practically brothers. Which meant fights, yelling, apologizes and late nights talking about nothing at all. He would have gone mad with Ryou, and terribly, Ryou knew it.

He shoved his way into the high tower's main room, leaning against the door post. Ryou was finishing work on a young woman sitting perched aloft his medical table.

Kala Muller was rubbing her wrist, rounded face distorted with a small amount of pain. Now she was a woman, and where Ryou did not have the curves, Kala made up for them tenfold. The homespun robe, fashioned with the insignia of their community, clung to her hips even when she sat. At least clothes were still fashionable in this hellish place; they had not lost that yet.

"Thanks Ryou," Kala whispered hesitantly.

"You're most welcome, Kala dear." Ryou dusted his hands on his pants, "Be careful with the wrist or you'll damage it all the more." He tweaked her nose.

She crinkled it. "I will."

Kala was not much younger than they were, though for a women, it was always more troubling. He worried about the younger women; those in their twenties were most at risk in the smaller communities that were less well managed. People had thought equality had been bad before the Great Tribulation, well, hello and welcome to the twenty-first century after Dragons destroyed the world!

Yugi narrowed his lips. Was his community really falling out from under him that fast? He had a hard enough time being a dominant male looking the way he looked; he could not stand to imagine what it was like in the world of women. It was a cut-throat world wherever one looked.

Kala brushed at her brown bundled hair with her free hand. Ryou helped her off the desk, resetting her hazel gown. "Off you go now." He motioned. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Yup." She swung about, pausing as she spied Yugi at the door.

"Hey, Yugi!"

"Hey there gorgeous." Shoving off the wall Yugi strolled toward her, taking up her wrist and glancing at it. He took a quick look to Ryou, eyebrows raised in question.

"What happened?"

"I just tripped and fell." Kala shrugged, "Nothing to worry about. Silly really." She laughed. "Ryou fixed me up. Well, I'd best get to the kitchens, someone has to keep Joey away from the stores. You will join us for dinner, Yugi, won't you?"

"Sure." He gave a nod as she slid through the doorway.

"This is a real promise this time, because last time you said you would and you didn't—"

Yugi pressed a finger to her lips, stalling her before she went into a frantic rant. "I promise, love, I'll join you for dinner."

"Okay. Um. Thanks again, Ryou…um…give Malik my hello." She vanished. The door clipped shut.

"Poor thing," Ryou twittered a laugh, "she really has no idea Malik would drag her into a storage room the first moment he could. Contraception is just so difficult these days…" He pouted, peering around his medical equipment, as though trying to solve the problem in a glance.

"What? He's worried he'll get her pregnant?" Yugi raised an eyebrow, "Malik is worried about something like that? He's supposed to spontaneous and dashing! Are we talking about the same Malik here?" Yugi waved a hand between them.

"He doesn't want to burden the community, or Kala, with a child, and you know how many women we have had die in child birth, and usually the babies don't make it anyway. Bother this radiation! If it isn't cancer, it's mutation."

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. They had yet to figure out why women were dying, and why the children lived only days afterwards, mutation from the radiation-winds was the conjoint thought but they had no way to really know. It was scaring folks to hell though, seeing children born so deformed. Ryou tried to say they were natural, they would grow to be just like everyone else, their minds were the same—but in a world filled with superstition, in a world of Dragons—well, everyone wanted to burn the unnatural, the mother-killers. The world had gone to hell so quickly.

Under it all, he could see Malik's point of view on the matter. "Well, he still could tell her he likes her, instead of making her worry," he offered.

"Oh, I think he likes making her worry." Ryou chuckled. He bundled up bandaging and moved toward a set of benches covered with healing supplies and strange alchemic devices. The room was lit by the large window to one side, and candles were stationed everywhere, flickering light about.

"He could lay claim," Yugi moved toward the medical bench, heaving himself up onto it, "some of the men might not have his high moral standard and she's a pretty girl and though I do love asserting my dominance and supreme ruler-ship over scum-bags, I can't get all of them."

Ryou looked as though he was going to smile, "Point taken, I will have a chat to him about it when I get the chance." The healer clicked his tongue in disapproval, "So, were you asserting your dominance and supreme ruler-ship when you got that lovely cut on your cheek?"

Yugi popped his lips.

"Whoa! Ryou, you must be some kind of god, how did you know!" Yugi waved his arms around.

"Stop being a sarcastic moron." Ryou threw a pillow at him. "Lie down."

Yugi flopped back. He winced as Ryou set down a bowl of water and began to clean his face off, muttering about how dirty he was, that he seriously needed a bath, that things never changed.

"One of these days, Yugi Motou, you are going to do yourself serious harm that I cannot heal. I hope Joey stopped you before you damaged Richard beyond repair."

Yugi whined as Ryou's soft fingers gently stroked the wound. He reached up, grabbing his friends wrist.

"How did you know it was Richard."

"An Egyptian Eagle told me."

"I thought Malik would be around."

"He's taking my father dinner. I'll finish with you and then we should join him. My father wishes to speak to you."

Yugi pouted. Great. Uncle Alfred wanted to talk. He could only imagine it was to tell him off for beating the crud out of Richard.

He released Ryou's wrist and flopped back. Ryou returned to washing his face and shoulders. Yugi caught the glittering shine between the layers of Ryou's shirt of the Ring as it dangled down from its chain. The strange, ancient artifact had been a part of Ryou almost as long as he could remember but it still gave him the chills whenever he saw it—because of what it was.

It was part of the Dragon legend. His grandfather had said there were seven of them, the Seven Items forged from the golden tears of the Dragons. Ryou had one, and he could heal with it. Sometimes it just made him sick to think that his beloved friend, his brother, wore something a Dragon a made.

Why it worked with Ryou, and only with Ryou, no one knew—not even Alfred in all his knowledge. As a community it was something they kept quiet. No one wanted to make it public that they had a healer who needed only to touch a wound to heal it. Though Ryou did have limits, the Ring, it seemed, drew power from his very own life-force, the greater the wound, the more he had to give to heal it.

Sometime he had to been forced to make a choice to not save a life to keep his own and that had been devastating on such a kind hearted soul.

And then there was disease—something Ryou could not heal—nor could he heal hunger, or thirst, nor the poison of radiation. Life was hard, even with unexplainable magic twisted into it.

Yugi winced as Ryou's finger brushed across his cheek once more; a chill swelled around the wound as it closed over. He could almost feel the ice that caked across it then melted and dribbled away.

"There you go, now I can see your handsome smile." Ryou beamed. "Hello there, Yugi, old chap, it's been awhile since your skin has seen a nice ray of sunshine."

Yugi gave a sing-song laugh, "I like it dirty. It's like a thick layer of sunscreen to protect me against the poor shatter ozone layer."

"Well, I won't have you going to see my father looking like a street-rat." Ryou helped him upright.

"Thanks Ryou." Yugi touched his still tingling cheek. No matter what, Dragon voodoo or whatever, he was still grateful that Ryou's hands could heal.

"Not a problem." The gentleman wandered away, his crisp walk so graceful, so much like a dancer. It motioned to the double set of doors and Yugi quickly straightened his clothes as best as he could. Yes, it was with some shame that he was going to see Uncle Alfred in such a mess. He smoothed back his hair, it sprung back into its crazy mane.

He heard Ryou's soft laughter at his dismay.

"Shut up," he sniped.

Ryou swung open the doors leading to the main bedroom of the castle.

Yugi breathed in the change of the air. The scent was Uncle Alfred's smell. Cigars. Even now the room smelt of them. He often wondered if that was why Alfred was now finding himself bed-ridden with cancer and ash poisoning. Ryou could not heal him, the damage was already far too deep within the body.

Once Alfred died, the weight of their community would fall either upon himself, Ryou or Malik—or maybe all three of them together, if they did not kill each other in the process.

Malik was sitting by the large four poster bed, reading aloud a book from a collection to one side of the room where a window opened up to a view of the dying sunlight clustering through the gray clouds of as. The Egyptian's russet skin gleamed a deep beautiful bronze in the dim light of the flickering candles, highlighting even his blond locks. That hair that Yugi had once found so alien amongst a tribe full of black, matched the wayward man that was now before him. Malik was like a silent wraith, a ghost who one never knew was upon them until they breathed their last breath. He was fluent in more languages than even Alfred, and had read every book in the old man's library, even when Ryou had not. It was as if, in some small way, Malik desired to be better, greater, more—because he had lost his father.

They shared that bond in a way. They had both lost someone to that first monster. He had lost his grandfather, Malik had lost his father.

Together they killed Dragons.

Malik's strength with a blade outweighed anyone using a dragon-pistol. One did not cross Malik in the hope to live.

Yet despite being so dark, having such bitterness under him, Malik had a playful air, one he showed around a particular women or orphaned children. His mischievous nature gleamed in his lavender eyes. They were hot human eyes—ever since his father had died, they had changed—as if something in his soul had awakened that day, something ancient and untamed.

Then again…

They had all changed that day.

"Father," Ryou skipped up to the bed, seating himself upon it and taking up a weak hand. "How do you feel this evening?"

"Alright my son," Alfred's frail voice croaked out.

Yugi winced at it. He hated this. It was so awful seeing the proud man like this, it just—it felt so wrong. Alfred had saved all of them, and raised them like a family, for it to end like this.

Yugi turned away weakly, gripping his hands into fists. Faint indentations creased into the flesh of his palms as he dug his nails into the skin to fight back the ache in his chest.

"I brought Yugi along, Father, he got into another fight."

Yugi gasped. He stepped forward. "Ryou, don't…don't tell him that."

Alfred chuckled. Weakly he waved for Yugi to approach the bed. "Ah, such a spirited soul you have, Little Fire. You live for battle, but I'd expect nothing less from you. You are a protector of the weak, despite your tender heart. This vile world has made you conform to such rage."

Yugi knelt beside the bed, reaching out his blistered hands and clasping Alfred's fingers in his own. They were cold, and weak. He shifted through his memories, taking himself back to a time when he had held them and they had been strong, and all he had to hold onto after the beginnings of the Great Tribulation.

He bowed his head in shame, "I am sorry sir."

"Do not ever be sorry, Yugi Motou, for the strength you have been blessed with to protect those you love." Alfred heaved himself up, coughing as he moved. Malik quickly stood, adding the man into a sitting position. The Egyptian anxiously hovered, only earning himself a slap over the cheek from Alfred's free hand.

"Stop looking at me like that, boy! Death isn't something I fear. Ryou, go get that box from the top left desk."

"Yes, Father." Ryou stood.

Yugi watched him as he moved away, but his attention shifted back to Alfred as the old man tightened his grip on his fingers.

"Yugi, I want you to understand something, and this will be hard for you, I know, but you must listen to me," he wheezed out. "Your Grandfather and I were chasing a legend, part of that legend ended up being a reality, obviously, considering we found was sought in the rising of that Dragon so many long years ago. It is now my belief that the second half of that legend is just as much truth. It is only through an understanding of our past that we shall survive our future," he insisted firmly.

Yugi glanced to Malik.

"I know sir, I know." Yugi nodded.

"It is not coincidence, child, that you and your Grandfather uncovered the ancient tomb of the Dragon Pharaoh." Yugi cringed at the name. His hand clenched. Alfred tightened his grip.

"Yugi, you cannot keep running from what is rightfully yours. Solomon was destined to find what he sought and you were destined to be there with him."

"Grandfather died, Uncle."

"I know."

"He died."

"Your grandfather was not a normal man, Yugi. I have thought about this long and hard these lonely years and I keep coming back to the legend and its words, the legend he and I found that one day when the walls caved in around us and our futures were changed forever…but he already knew, he knew."

Yugi breathed in deeply, _"In the darkest of days, a pact was born. By blood and gold, ye be bound, neither shall live without the other. Shall one perish so shall the other; in a cycle born to being again until called they are to rise a-bright. Bound by golden tools, begin again, the world that was. Bring to us peace, ye who bound by souls of red-eyes."_

Yugi bowed his head. "Red eyes…" he whispered, "The first Dragon, the shadow." He shook his head, the memory from so long ago was an ugly one, it made his scar hurt. The eye of that Dragon had looked upon him as a frightened child with such clarity, as if it had known who he was. He had never understood why that Dragon had looked at him and his grandfather and seen him, and not killed him there on the spot when it could have, oh it, could have.

"I do not understand the words, sir." Yugi shifted slightly as Ryou came to sit down upon the bed once more, a large box in his hands that he placed before his father and carefully opened it.

"I know the meaning will reveal itself to you in time, Yugi, though it has yet to come to Ryou and he has held his Item since he was a boy."

Yugi glanced to his friend, then at the Ring Ryou plucked at thoughtfully. The design was a simple one, not to be awed over. A loop with the frightful red eye in its center, spirals trailing down like the claws of a Dragon.

Alfred shifted wearily, "I feel it is time I gave this to you Yugi, before I depart from this world. Your Grandfather died to find it, and I believe it belongs to you, though I know you do not desire it." He freed from the wooden container the artifact of gold, the small box. Yugi flinched away from it, shaking his head in denial.

"No," he choked. "I…I…can't take that. It's cursed—"

"Yugi, listen to me." Alfred pressed it to him, "Your Grandfather believed in these Items, he spent his entire life searching for them. It is his legacy. Take it."

Yugi shuttered as he grasped the small box. It felt warm. Malik's hand touched his shoulder. He bowed his head, accepting the strength given.

"Malik, my son," Alfred's dull eyes turned to the Egyptian, who shuffled to attention. "You suffered greatly, first losing your father, then your sister. Grief drives you easily, lad." Alfred took the large hands of the young man and placed them against his cheeks.

Malik narrowed his lips.

"I cannot fault you, child, but I do ask that you think before you leap, and please, for goodness sake, bed that young woman of yours before someone else!"

Yugi snorted a laugh at Malik's tinged cheeks. Ryou kicked him sharply.

"Your Father, Malik, would have wanted you to have this." Alfred lifted free a woven rod, crafted of gold and azure. He twirled it about with a smile. Fluttering golden wings sprouted from the sphere centered atop it, vanishing as he righted it and held it forth to the young man.

"It was passed down through your people, from generation to generation. It is one of the Items, and it was how Solomon and I knew that we were on the right track. Your people had many beliefs, and I respected them, as I respected your father." Alfred let it drop into Malik's hands. "May it bring you closer to your ancestors, lad."

Alfred settled back into his pillows, closing his eyes wearily.

"I do not know what any of this means but I know you three were brought together for a reason. Remember that you are brothers and don't get yourselves killed!"

"Yes sir," they replied in unison.

"Go, I'm tired and I need to sleep." Alfred waved.

Yugi stood quickly, giving a curt bow though he knew Alfred could no longer see it.

Ryou tucked his father in tightly before they each turned to the door, easing it shut as they left the silent, dark chamber. The air within Ryou's medical room had grown cold and he scurried to the fireplace, stoking up the flames and throwing another log onto the coals.

Yugi collapsed back into the bed, staring at the small golden box in his hand.

"We meet again, Dragon Pharaoh," he whispered.

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Somewhere he had read, maybe in one of Alfred's books, that children needed structure in their lives and Yugi liked to think that he gave them such structure in the dark world that now surrounded them. A story was told within what would have once been a small chapel in the castle grounds. It was after the join dinner that was a noisy and bothersome affair that he despised, however seeing the smiles of the orphan children was worth the hustle and bustle.

Both he and Malik had been chosen for the job of storytelling that evening and he had decided on the old story that the children born after the Great Tribulation would not have heard of, but those like himself had much pleasure from. The adults at least, could laugh and chuckle at the nostalgia of it. Well, those adults who did care at least. Ryou and Kala were across the small chapel, children huddled on their laps, seeking warmth and love. At least they had that to give, a never ending flood of love.

"Join me, the black knight says," Malik dramatically fisted a hand into the air, "then we can end this conflict forever."

Yugi turned his attention to the story. He twirled his fake flight-sabre, making the sounds, "Never!"

They fought back and forth over the small stage, swinging the two sticks around, listening in delight to the children as they squealed and gasped at the display.

"I'll never join you, the white knight says," Yugi reared forward at Malik, "You killed my Father!"

Before him, Malik lunged, bringing his red painted stick down. Yugi dropped his light-sabre as his hand was sliced off. The children squealed in horror, some crying out. Quickly Yugi flashed his hand about, revealing it was still very much attached to his arm before hiding it away in the sleeve of his shirt once more after a sigh of relief came from the group.

Malik thrust out his chest, "The black knight stares through the holes in his shiny mask and speaks words that burn into our hero's heart forever…" The Egyptian added the heavy, dark breathing through the mask, leaving a small pause for a flare as the children mouth's fell agape.

Malik placed a hand on his chest, tilting up his chin, "Luke, I am your Father"

The children squealed in shrieks of disbelief. It was honestly just as dramatic as seeing it on a silver-screen Yugi figured. He tried hard to keep a straight face.

"No!" He cried, dropping to his knees, "Nooooo."

The lights dimmed.

The children erupted into claps.

Malik held out a hand and Yugi took it, allowing him to heave him back to his feet as the lights flickered on. Removing his mask Malik smirked, pleased at himself. He clubbed a few of the children in the front row on the head with his light-sabre.

"Did you make that up yerself Mr. Malik?" One piped up, grabbing the stick.

"Sure I did." Malik grinned.

"And," Yugi shouted, "We'll continue the adventures of Luke Skywalker tomorrow evening. Now," he clapped his hands for attention," it is time for bed kids."

Groans moaned around the small hall and Yugi inwardly smiled at their devastated expressions as they all rolled about on the floor. Some things never changed, even after the end of the world. Someone gave a loud call,

"No! I want the Lion King, another story!"

"Yeah, another story!"

"Lord of the Rings."

"Frodo!"

"Aye, Frodo!"

"I want Narnia."

"Princesses!"

"The Giant Slayer."

Yugi looked skyward, rubbing his aching head. He breathed in deeply, "No! Tomorrow night," he bellowed. "Come now, prayers!"

The commotion calmed down instantly and the children scrambled into place as the two adults knelt, clasping their hands before their chests. The children followed the example, little wide eyes waiting for the night time ritual to begin.

Yugi settled himself, "What do we do when we are awake?"

The children replied, with Malik's brass tone mixed in as their leader, "Keep both eyes on the sky."

"What do we do when we sleep?" he added.

"Keep one eye on the sky," they echoed.

Malik took lead, "What do we do when we see them?"

Dig hard, dig deep, run for shelter, never look back." Yugi felt his skin prickle as the children echoed his reply to Malik. He nodded, clapping his hands. "Good, good. Well done. Bed time."

Once more the groans rose. Yugi shook his head, leaping down into the throng, "Nope, off you go." He helped herd them off to the sleeping courters ahead of Ryou and Kala until the small room was near vacant accept for a small, slender boy stationed at his feet and Malik.

"You can go, Sol. I'll catch up with you." Yugi inclined his head.

Without a word the boy stood and darted away. The little one was so impossibly obedient, yet very rarely did he join the other children in activities, choosing instead to mingle with adults and aid in chores that he could do as a tiny boy.

Malik yawned, giving his neck a crack. "Well, I'm calling quits. Night Yugi." He tousled Yugi's hair playfully, making him duck aside at the treatment and jibe at his height. "See you in the morning."

"You going to work on that fallen wall with me?" Yugi called out.

"Count me in." Malik waved a hand, disappearing out the room.

He was alone.

Finally night had come. He wondered why he felt more at peace at night. It was not as if it was any safer at night. Somehow he just felt far more centered in the darkness.

He loitered his way through the castle, trailing his fingers over the once beautiful murals of medieval designs. Once they had been the delight of tourists but now they were the despair of a community struggling to survive. Richard was right, all the other communities around them had stop communicating and that usually meant one thing—they were gone, wiped off the map—even Edinburgh, the last hope, had been burned to a crisp. It was really only a matter of time before they too were consumed by the flames.

He clutched a hand to his chest.

"No, we have to survive. Somehow."

Easing into his small room, he noted that Sol had already tucked himself into his tiny cot. For a little boy of only five he tried so hard to act like a mature kid. Sol was not an orphan, Sol was his son. He had found the little, starving toddler on one of his Dragon hunts. A torn up, terrified little baby, in a hole, left there to die. He could have walked right past him, others obviously had, but one look into the sorrowful large eyes, as amethyst as his own, caused him to stop. He had picked up the infant, not caring that he was not at all the right guy for the job, that he was an emotional mess, had no food, water or clothing for the kid.

What he did have was another Human presence, and he had touch, love and whatever came with those. Sol held him together, like he held Sol together. The kid had been with him ever since. That had been three years ago. Sol had survived the odds, the boy had actually managed to pull through it all and survive. Hell, it was a miracle.

Since he had no name, Yugi had just called him Solomon—after his grandfather, cause it fitted. It eventually became Sol for short, because shouting Solomon all the time had become a bother. There had been a lot of shouting, considering just how much trouble the tiny boy had managed to get into, and sometimes he still did get into odd places. For a five year old, he was too small, to thin, to tiny and he was really just too fast. Growing to be as sleek and slender as he was, with the same wave of unruly hair Yugi recalled his grandfather had owned; a wave of brown and blond bangs frazzled about in the true Motou fashion.

It was as if this was his grandfather.

Yugi crouched down in front of the boy's cot. Maybe the kid had been born into the crazy world to remind him of the old man, to bring him hope in the pits of hell, and someone precious to care for. He needed something precious to love, something to cuddle and to protect, but most important, he needed someone who would bring him back to reality.

Sol was his sanity when he lost it; the kid would clutch at him, hug him, shake him, slap him and scream, yelling to come back from that place he went to when Slaying. For Sol, he survived another day.

Yugi smiled as he gently brushed Sol's locks aside, studying his sleeping face. He bent forward, pressing a kiss to the kid's forehead. The boy crinkled his nose and rolled about, making a squatting movement. He muttered something under his breath as he curled up tighter under the rolls of blankets.

Yugi's chest ached. He wished he could give the boy a toy, or just some kind of gift for being such a blessing, but he had nothing, just his love—he paused, touching the pouch around his belts, feeling the golden box Alfred had disposed upon him. Carefully he removed it, gazing at the artifact that had long been cast from his memory since that fateful day.

It had not changed at all, time had not affected it.

He trailed his scarred, hardened fingers over the cool edges, ignoring the eye and its red center. Quickly, without a breath, he flipped it open.

Soft blue light illuminated his face, playing off the walls of his room in dancing patterns. Yugi gaped. That was not possible—his grandfather's blue crystal necklace. He had thought it had been lost in the scurry to flee from the First Dragon, surely Alfred had not taken it—well, he must have.

"Alfred, you old, tricky bastard." Yugi shook his head, plucking the crystal free and letting it dangle on its old chain. He smiled, recalling only fondness from the sight of it. He barely registered the feeling of a fleeting tear trickle down his cheek until he wheezed a sob.

Yugi sniffed, shaking his head. With half a laugh he looped it around Sol's neck and tucked it under the boy's shirt. "Back where it belongs." He kissed the kid's forehead. "Safe heh."

Easing onto his feet he wandered to his own cot by the window, collapsing into the filthy straw mattress. Kicking off his boots he slinked under the rough blankets, curling up to stare out beyond the bailey to the hazy red glow of the filthy air beyond.

Something dropped out of the gold box as he set it down.

He stirred, turning sharply as he watched in the candle light the shiny object bounce away.

Yugi squeaked as he toppled out of the cot, reaching for whatever it was. His hand clasped around something pointy and sharp, yet it fit in the palm of his hand. It was warm. It pulsed in his grasp like the beating of a small heart.

Rolling around Yugi held it tightly to his chest. Did he dare open his fist? Whatever it was, maybe it was the real treasure the golden box was supposed to hold. The Dragon Pharaoh's heart maybe?

"Come on Yugi Motou, stop being a scared brat, frightened of some legend. Jii-chan would be mortified of you."

He jerked his hand away, throwing the object onto the bed and slowly he approached, kneeling before it. It indented the rotting mattress as though it weighed far more than a tiny little piece of gold jewelry. An inverted pyramid, small red eye pressed into pure, glistening gold, hanging from a chain of crystal blue.

"Yeah…" Yugi rubbed his nose, "just a legend."

So this was the counter-part to Ryou's Ring. It did not look as impressive as the Ring; he just had to add that mentally.

"So," he poked it, "you going to do something if I put you on, or are you just going to remind me that my grandfather died to find you? I seriously don't care if a Pharaoh wore you some whatever-amount of time ago, you're useless to me now, Mr. Pyramid."

Looping it up Yugi flipped it over his neck and collapsed back into his cot.

Nope. He did not feel magically different. Light did not beam down from the heavens. The sky did not part and no Dragon Pharaoh fell into his lap.

"Well, fat lot of good you are, Mr. Pyramid." He blew a rasp. "You could have at least kept me warm or something magical like that."

Yugi rolled around, glancing at Sol briefly before settling down. His grandfather's stories were nice once, but that was before Dragons were actually real.

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_It was an uncanny sensation, spreading through his limbs. The closest thing Yami could equate to it was losing too much blood and feeling a tingling in his lips as consciousness floated just beyond reach. _

_Someone was pulling him along, as though there was an invisible, but thick rope, tied around his neck. When it was ruthlessly yanked he had no choice but to obey the calling and he followed the rope into a gray haze of mist. It folded back in a curtain wave as he walked on ground that was uneven, cobbled and crunched with a film of ice. _

_If he scuffed hard enough, the stones floated about his feet. _

_Yami waved away the vapor of his breath. It was so surreal. Was he supposed to be cold? He felt so hot and yet everything around him acted frozen and solid. He paused suddenly._

_Standing alone a figure was perched upon a road side, looking out across a small castle and its surrounding walls. It was a rundown rustic place, looking as though it was beginning to crumble in on itself. _

_Yami furrowed his brow. He kept his walk slow as he carefully approached the stranger. He had been rather positive this was a dream, and if it was a dream, who was this and where was this? This place that was gray with sorrow, raining ash and sick with the feeling of despair. He felt heavy with it, as if he had been forced to carry every horrible emotion he had ever tried to shake away._

"_Excuse me?" He reached the stranger._

_The young man turned sharply, startled, enough to step back a few paces. Yami's eyes widened, realizing that neither of them were physically formed. He stared at his hands, no, through his hands. _

_The stranger too was so slightly transparent._

"_Who are you?" The youth accused. Yami winced at the sharpness of the tone. He did not know if he had been sliced with it or clubbed over the head with its bluntness. _

"_I could ask you the same question." He eyed the young man, raising an eyebrow. The face across from him was covered in dirt and grime, and his frazzled hair was an untamed mess under a bandanna. Despite what were appallingly horrible clothes, pieced together with patch-work threading, he stood straight and proud. Though he was small in comparison to the average man Yami had no doubt he could kill. He simply radiated strength—a dark, wary strength, not unlike his own, yet wild and untamed, without control—like fire. _

_Yami gulped._

_That was why he was not cold._

_He was standing in front of a raging inferno. _

"_Well," Yami coughed politely, "I am Yami, Knight of Hedingham."_

"_Really, well I'm Santa Claus. Ho, ho, ho…"_

"_You look awfully handsome for a jolly-old-man."_

"_Thanks." _

_Yami spread his hands, "Do you seriously want me to call you Santa Claus."_

"_Yugi Motou. I do not have a fancy title, they are of little use here."_

"_Where is here?" Yami stepped up beside him, taking in the gray view._

"_Court yard I think." Yugi shrugged, then paused, tilting his head up and frowning. "Your hair…you have three colors, like mine." His fingers went to his bandanna._

"_Heh?" Yami touched his braid. "Yes, wait? You too?" _

_That was not what the young man beside him must have been assessing at that moment. His intense stare had nothing to do with the bizarre shades of his hair; it was transfixed upon his eyes in disgust and horror._

"_Your eyes! They're just like the Dragons. What a horrid nightmare you are. I'm actually dreaming the First Dragon as a Human." He was trembling, "I want you gone, apparition!" He pointed, tears swelling under his lashes as he shouted, "I want you out of my head right now! Be gone monster, please, leave my dreams alone. Can't you just…leave me…alone!" _

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Yami jostled awake. Bakura's firm hands were shaking him. The white knight was kneeling on his bed, over him, disheveled mane of white hair loose over his shoulders. It was not a very familiar sight for many, to see Bakura in such an unkempt state. He may have liked to have the roughish look, but he still kept himself prim and proper.

Yami gasped. Air tightened into his lungs. It tasted slightly off. He tumbled around for a bottle of water on his bedside table, finding it only when Bakura pressed it into his hands. It touched his lips and he drank greedily the sweet liquid. Every muscle was on fire, the head spreading from the tips of his toes to his thudding skull.

Groaning he rolled around, holding the palms of his hands to his eyes and viciously scrubbed the sockets.

"Felix, what…what happened?"

"How do I know, your royal shortness," Bakura droned. "Whatever it was had you thrashing about, but not even the warning horn would have stirred you."

Yami frowned. He wearily eased himself upright. It was as if he had had just run a marathon and his legs had turned to jell-o. At least he was in the chamber he shared with Bakura, and safe.

"It was so weird," he whispered, rubbing at his sweaty bare chest, encountering the scars across the skin. He drummed at them thoughtfully. "I dreamed I was in this, well I think it was another community, but it was so different from ours. There was this young man—Yugi—he called himself Yugi Motou."

Bakura yawned. "Fascinating."

"Bakura, he accused me of being a Dragon…or the First Dragon…or something like that, because of my eyes." Giving a soft laugh, Yami glanced at his comrade and their similar gaze. If he looked hard enough, he could almost see the black slits in Bakura's pupils, just like a Dragons.

Neither of them ever tried to dwell on it much.

"Not being into mumbo-jumbo stuff…but maybe it's just your internal fears bleeding through your something nuts like that. Dreams can do that, or something. Come on!" His chest was given a firm slap, "Let's get a run in before dawn breaks. I remember your old-man wanted us to do that—."

"No." Yami stalled him from rising, "This wasn't just like any other dream, Bakura. That young man," he clutched a hand to his chest, "there was something so real about him." His mind drifted back to the dream. He had noticed a gleam of gold, something that had looked out of place upon the rag-tag mashing of worn clothing the youth had worn. Gold was nothing rare, really, yet the stranger had been wearing an eccentric looking upside down pyramid from a chain and it had just looked peculiar. He shook his head. Why could he not get the picture out of his head?

He swung himself around, clambering out of the bed covers.

"You're right, Bakura. Dreams heh. Come on, let's go for that run."

Bakura smiled, "Good, thanking, Temmy."

The endearing pet-name always gave him a warm feeling, only this time, he did not need its warmth. Something else had given him deeper, more lasting warmth in the coldness of their oppressing world.

Who had he been, this Yugi Motou, and was he someone real at all?

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Yugi felt something pressed to his lips. It was damp. It trickled down his chin. Water—it was surely water, slightly salted, enough to tell him it was processed and purified. His skin chilled. He was drawn back to the spring by the Temple ruins, the ringing laughter of Ryou and Malik as they frolicked in the shallows about the reeds. Ryou's shrieking about the tadpoles and Malik's warm, beautiful skin so chocolate in the sunlight.

Water had cooled his burns after his grandfather's death, and water had become his friend. He loved water.

Yugi groaned, pushing at the hand that held his head. His eyes fluttered. The blurry outline of Joey's face slowly became clearer.

"Yugi, are yeh alright?"

The American knelt beside him, cradling him like a child. He had set aside the cup of water.

Yugi crinkled his brow in confusion. Beside Joey, anxiously knitting her hands together Kala was watching with large round eyes. What was she doing in his room—wait—this was not his room!

Yugi jerked upright. There was hard ground under his hands. He was in the court-yard of the castle. It was a gray sky of a new dawn above him. How in the fudging blazes did he get out here!

"How in all of Saint John's Bells did I end up out here?" He recalled going to sleep in his cot, he was sure of it.

"Ah, no idea Yugi," Joey rubbed his chin. "Yer, do yeh sleep walk?"

"No!" he denied sharply. Well, he had never been alerted to the fact that he ever had slept walked before.

"Well, maybe yeh do now." Joey shrugged, "Hey, nice necklace." He motioned to the golden Item dangling freely around his neck from its slim chain. Yugi touched it thoughtfully, stroking its warm sides. That was right, he had put it on the night before.

"Alfred gave it to me, ah, wow, this is weird. Did you both find me out here?" He grabbed hold of Joey's offered arm, allowing his friend to hoist him upright. Kala hugged his shoulders, throwing a wrap around him and tucking it into his pants.

"I was just on my way to start the morning breakfast." She sighed. "You'll catch your death if you start sleep walking out into the night, you silly."

"I don't sleep-walk."

"Right," she smirked, tucking a hand full of her loose locks behind an ear, "you came out here for a reason and fell asleep, I totally understand."

"I could have been watching for Dragons!" He stuck a finger under her chin.

"Yah a cute little guy." Joey ruffled his hair.

"Dad! Dad!" Sol's voice broke across the court-yard in a frenzied panic. Yugi snapped around, not prepared to hear the boy's frantic cries so early in the morning. He watched as the kid ran down the stairs, waving his small arms above him.

"Sol!" Kala hoisted up her dress, running toward him. "Be careful or you'll trip over," she shouted.

Sol ignored her, leaping over a banister and landing in a tumble. He righted himself and skidded up to them. He threw his arms around Yugi's legs.

"Dad! It's Mr. Richard! He…he…he…he's gone! I saw him out the window! He's taken the jeeps Dad! He has gone harvesting."

"Shit." Joey swore.

Yugi fisted his hands, "Did he take any of the de-scenting equipment?" He kept his tone level, monitoring his temper.

Sol paused, scrunching up his face, looking deep in thought. He shook his head. "No!"

Kala gasped. "Oh my gosh! He's brought Tribulation down upon us all!"

"We have to catch him before he gets too far and their scent catches the wind." Yugi pointed to Joey, "Joey get the spare Jeep, Sol go and get my Slayer gear, all of it. Kala, honey, gather the children up and send out the warning! I have to tell Alfred and get Malik. Move people! Move!"

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	3. Chapter 2 - Let Live

_Hey guys,_

_I do so hope this update finds you well!_

_There is a clue in this chapter as to one of the ways this story is going to different from the last. Kinda excited about it ^^_

_It's in the numbers/dates/ages – something like that XD – LOL _

_Hope you enjoy the update! _

_Keep well dearest readers *hugs*_

_Thanks for your support. Much loves goes out to you all. _

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The Hedingham Chronicles

Walk of Fire

**~The greatest evil is physical pain.~**

**~Saint Augustine~**

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**Chapter 2: Let Live**

Malik cleaned his blade on his pants. They were too dark for the smeared blood to be seen. There was just a mild feeling of satisfaction as he studied the wiry man sprawled across the stone floor. For a malnourished guy he had sure kicked up a fuss, it was even amusing having to hold him down as he squealed, tearing about on the floor in agony as the dagger made pretty impressions over bare skin.

But it did get old quickly, seeing pathetic men squirm about all worm like. They were all the same, with their black teeth, beady eyes and long fingers. They came seeking refugee from the flesh-eating zombies outside, but they were no better, they just desired a different kind of flesh.

Malik kicked the man hard, making him squeal as he curled up tightly.

"So, Weevil, how many women has been now?" Malik raised an eyebrow, "Three…four…? All of them too scared to come forward. Hell, you are so, so lucky little Sol did not go running to his Daddy and he found me, his beloved Uncle instead, or those family jewels of yours wouldn't be around no more cause Yugi…" Malik made a slashing motion, "Oh, yeah, he just goes for it. I've seen it, first hand."

Standing upright Malik stepped forward, placing a foot gently down beside a trembling thigh. "You had the audacity to creep around knowing full well this would be your punishment! You came to our community, heard our rules, and you thought you could break them!"

"Please, I…I…beg you…I didn't do anything! He is lying, the kid is lying. You have no evidence against me, the…the Lord of the Castle would not appr—"

"You whine worse than you grope, Weevil," the snipe came from the doorway.

Malik turned slightly, surprised to find Sol peering into weapons storage, a dark scowl under his brown bangs.

"You," Weevil spluttered, pointing and waving a finger, "you little lying brat!"

"Are you going to kill him for hurting Kala?" Sol looked up at him thoughtfully. It was a very appealing notion really.

"You want to try?" Malik offered the dagger he held. "You're the one who told me what happened."

"Another day maybe." Sol shrugged.

Well, Malik mused, at least it was not a straight out denial.

Weevil's eyes widened and he scrambled away from the boy in horrified realization. Malik inwardly smirked. Oh, such a stupid man, he should have never crossed paths with the kid raised by Yugi Motou.

Malik flapped a hand about, "Oh, don't look so worried Weevil, Sol's five years old…do you seriously think I would let a toddler kill you. Sheesh, what do you take me for, some kind of horrible man?"

"You are a horrible man, Uncle." Sol's voice was monotone, "Richard has taken the jeeps." The boy scooted into the room, ignoring the blabbering man on the floor. He sidestepped around him and climbed up the bench to Yugi's weapons. "I need Dad's Slayers gear, and you need to get to Dad before he does stupid things."

"Awww, damn," Malik hissed, "and I was just getting started. I wanted to take his fingers off, one by one..." He dug the blade into Weevil's hand, delighting in the high-pitched cry. Sol removed it swiftly, twirling it around and throwing it into the flesh of a nearby wooden post.

"Stop wasting time, Uncle." He snapped his head about, turning to stare at the blabbering man, "Weevil, sound the Dragon alarm, or I will kill you in your sleep! Go! Now!"

Malik watched in disgust as the bug scrambled away.

"Now, would you really kill Weevil in his sleep? That seems a bit harsh—"

"Is it not the best way to kill a man? When they are not aware of the action, Dad told me so." Sol glanced up at him. "And I will do what I must to protect this community."

Malik chuckled, "You're too much like your father."

Sol yanked open the cupboard that stored Yugi's Dragon Slayer equipment, and Malik half expected it to fall all over the boy. It did not, nothing did, in fact, the cupboard was empty.

Sol erupted with a shriek of rage, kicking the door of the cupboard and slamming it shut. He leapt down from the stool and tore past Malik.

Malik whistled.

"Yep, you are way too much like your father." He grabbed for his weapons hanging on the wall and turned to follow the kid. "Oh boy, I do not want to be Richard right now."

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It had seemed that Seto, their great and mighty resident Wizard, had fixed the kinks in the environmental dome over the long night. The weather out in the courtyard of Hedingham was mild, slightly chilly, but far better than what it was beyond their borders. Yami would have delighted in contemplating the minuscule matters of the weather, however from his current position it was the last thing on his mind.

Somehow, against his better judgment, he had managed to find himself in a duel with Bakura and the White Knight's twin blades. It was much to the delight of the crowd who had nothing better to do than to watch him roll around trying not to get killed.

"What's the matter your royal shortness! Not in the mood for fighting today?" Bakura gloated.

Yami wiped sweat and grass off his face. He angled his board sword. "I'm always in the mood to kick your _gluious maxmuis_, Felix!" he hissed.

"Don't be so posh, prince," Bakura shouted. "Today is a good day to die, twenty-seven isn't a bad age these days!"

With a twist Yami wrenched himself away from the twin blades as they swung down in a curve. Bakura was cackling as he danced around, hacking and smashing as though he had no rhyme to his movements but that was just a show, there was always a reason to Bakura's dance.

The White Knight suddenly spun off. Yami ducked, looped his legs around and missed the blow that came for his neck. Sweet holy—that was too close. He rolled to one side, skidding in the grass. He heaved up his blade, shielding the blow that came down from Bakura.

He watched was Bakura's eye's widened slightly. The White Knight could not stop the action. His twin blades vibrated from the crashing strike, his full weight bearing down upon the broad sword.

Yami thrust upward, using his body as a spring. His grip of his sword loosened. It dropped. He struck with a hand, smashing it between the plates of Bakura's armor. As his sword dropped he scooped it up, coiling it around and with the butt of hilt he thrust it deep into Bakura's shoulder.

The strength of the knock threw the larger man onto his back.

Panting Yami pointed his sword directly across the White Knight's throat.

"Do you yield?" He spat out blood.

"Aww, damn it." Bakura flapped his arms about. "I was so close!"

"Yield?"  
"What do you think, you short oaf! Yes I yield!"

"Good boy." Yami chuckled, offering him a hand. Bakura caught it, near pulling him down to join him in the mud they had turned up. Yami countered the strength, hoisting Bakura up and clapped him firmly over the back.

"You almost had me," he whispered.

"I know." Bakura shrugged. "You were not yourself today."

Yami narrowed his brow. He had not really expected Bakura to notice it in battle, but he supposed his friend was just that tuned to him.

"No…" He studied his hands, "I'm not."

Across the allocated area applause broke out from the spectators. Breaking the lines the younger children squealed as they dashed across the lawn, clustering around their legs.

Yami hoisted a small girl onto his shoulder as he allowed another boy to grab his broad sword and drag it across the ground with all the strength he could muster. He smiled at the sight of the children around Bakura, tugging at his armor and trying hard to clamber up his legs.

"Oi…oi…enough already you little terrors. I don't need you to pull my pants down!" The knight bellowed as two attached themselves to his arms ad he lifted them from the ground with a single sweep. "Ah, you little things." He groaned.

"If you can't fight them, Bakura, you can join them."

"Shut your face!" Bakura snapped.

Yami shook his head. The adults were dispersing and through them he noted his father's proud shape approaching, beside him trotted Seto's younger brother, the page of the court, Mokuba, who very rarely left his father's side other than to see to Seto's needs.

Very few people knew Mokuba Kaiba's true story, nor the reason for his gloved hands. The truth was deeper than anyone in their ruined world could believe, ever greater than Dragons; the boy's arms were robotic cybernetic limbs.

They were comprised of technology that people before the Great Tribulation would have questioned to be impossible and that alone made Mokuba precious, priceless—a treasure—one of the reasons why he never left the side of the Earl.

"A good duel my son."

Yami inclined his head to the warm voice. Atum's chest was like a barrel half filled with ale, it vibrated, and it always sounded so cheerful. He wore a kindly smile today, half visible through his beard of graying black. The purple colored insignia of Hedingham was imprinted all through the layers of the Earl's robes.

Whoever wore that crest of the Amir family fell under their protection; that was his father's promise, a promise that was to be known across all the lands. Hedingham was a place of refuge to any who sought it.

To be perfectly honest, opening their doors to just anyone was not a smart idea, but he was not Earl of Hedingham, his father was.

"Thank you, Father." He made sure to address the old-man correctly before the children. They had to be shown the proper way to respect a parent after all. He had great respect for his father, even if they differed in opinions, it did not mean there was no love between them.

"Temmy! Get the devils off me already!" Bakura cried out.

Yami turned sharply. He watched as the White Knight went down under a pile of children.

Atum erupted into a roar of laughter and Yami gave a small smile.

"Fancy that, Hedingham's greatest knight being overwhelmed by mere children." The Earl shook his head before clapping his hand's firmly.

"Children! I believe there is chocolate pudding being served in the great hall. If you're quick, you'll get some before the workers do."

The very mention of chocolate always did seem to do the trick, before the Great Tribulation, and even after it. With squeals of happiness the children ran off in a mob, laughing and singing as they tore through the gardens.

Yami once more aided Bakura to his feet.

"God's little children my left foot," Bakura grumbled, "they're like a horde of minions from the depths of hell!" He shuffled to attention as Atum eyed him.

"I enjoyed the duel, Bakura. You may one day overwhelm my son."

"I do intend to." Bakura snorted.

"Don't encourage him, Father." Yami rolled his eyes. "His ego is already so huge I can't sleep at night to the sound of it snoring." He side-stepped as Bakura took a swipe at him, the pain was near bone-crushing, only, he was so sure Bakura had not hit him. Yami curled forward in agony, a rush of sweat besieging him as the intense flare shot through his spine.

"Temmy?" Bakura grabbed him in panic, "What the hell? Did I hurt you—"

"No," Yami choked, "I…I…don't know…" Blood leaked from his mouth, he bent forward, spitting it out across the ground as his lungs began to burn. His chest felt as though it was bursting. He sensed his father's strong, commanding presence over him, touching his shoulders.

"Are you wounded, Atemu?"

"No. Bakura…did not touch me."

"We'll get you into the castle." Atum bent forward. Yami seized in fright at the realization the Earl was plucking him up like a child. "Thankfully, my boy, you weight as much as your mother did."

He was not sure if he was supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult in his currently hazy state. Everything was beginning to blur around him. He heard Bakura's voice, at least, he was really sure it Bakura.

"Mokuba go on ahead and tell Isis what's happened. Go on!"

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Yugi could not believe the stupidity of Richard. Surely the man knew the danger he was putting the entire community under, surely he understood that harvesting this early in the season made no logical sense, and surely he realized that not taking the de-scenting equipment meant he was likely to bring down upon them Tribulation. No god would save them, not the new, the old or the forgotten; Tribulation would cometh no matter what now.

Running up the stairs to the high point of the castle Yugi hissed, "You are a dead man Richard!"

Slamming open the door to Ryou's medicine room Yugi ignored the healer as he thrust back his chair.

"Yugi! No, wait!" Ryou scattered his scribing equipment as Yugi swept past to the double doors that lead into Alfred's chamber. "Yugi you cannot go in, Father is resting."

Yugi grabbed the handles, "Richard left the damned compound, Ryou, without de-scenting equipment! He's gone to harvest the crops." Yugi shouted over his shoulder as he thrust open the doors.

He heard Ryou's mortified gasp, "Mercy, we are dead. Yugi! We…you…you need to get after him!" Yugi twisted, thrusting a finger under Ryou's nose, "Shut up."

"Yugi Motou, what is all the calamity about…?"

Alfred stirred wearily from his bed and Yugi rushed to his side, heart racing. He reached the ill man, aiding him upright. Was it possible for him to look any frailer under his pale wispy hair? He glanced back at Ryou by the doors, hands clasped tightly to his chest, around the Ring under his shirt.

Yugi bent his head against Alfred's lap. "Uncle, I beg of you, please give me permission to protect this community."

Alfred's feeble finger's stroked through his hair, "My son, you need my permission?"

Yugi creased his brow. "Yes, father, I do," he choked.

Alfred's hand on his head trembled and Yugi peered up. The old man smiled weakly.

"Do whatever you must to protect that which you hold dear, that is all I have ever asked of you—"

"Dad! Dad!" Sol's high-pitched squeal broke the conversation.

Yugi twisted about, surprised to see the boy running through the doors, followed closely by Malik.

Sol skidded to a sharp halt, panting heavily.

"Solomon?" Yugi stood, "I thought I told you to grab my Slayer—"

Sol's hands fisted, "It's not there!"

Yugi gaped. "What?" he spluttered.

"It's not there, Dad. Someone took your gear. It's all gone. Even my Dragon Whistle, someone must have gone into our room and took my Dragon Whistle!"

Yugi felt Ryou's hand on his shoulder, cold and soothing, but it did nothing to quell the burning heat filming over his skin. He felt violated. His Slayer armor and weapons he had hand-crafted since he had begun slaying, and Sol's Dragon Whistle was a one-of-a-kind fragment from a Dragon's skull he had fashioned for the boy if ever the community found itself in such dire straits it needed the gift of a male Dragon's mating call.

"My Dragon gear is all we bloody have! I don't kill Dragons with my bare hands? What was Richard thinking…he can't just go out there thinking he can use that stuff, it takes years to hone skills."

"Yugi Motou!" Alfred's weakened voice firmed with a tight, sharp snap. Yugi tensed.

"Contain your anger or it will control you. Now what are you waiting for, go and find Richard, bring him back for trial."

"Trial?" Yugi snorted, strutting out of the chamber. "I'll show him a trial! It'll be a trial of my knife slicing his throat if I get my hands on him. Or how about I cut his balls off so he doesn't try this again!" Snatching Sol by the back of his shirt he dragged the boy out of the doors. "I am going to gut that man alive and string him from the battlement with his own intestines."

"Yugi! Don't you dare even try it!" Ryou threw a book; it hit him sharply over the head.

"I'm joking," he called back.

"Oh, sure you are. Now move your sorry backside and get out of here. Malik, go and make sure he does not do anything to Richard. Sol, stay with me." Ryou waved a hand to the boy.

Sol shook his head in refusal.

Yugi shoved him, "Stay with Ryou."

"But I am coming with you—."

"Stay." Yugi pointed, "You are needed here. Keep Ryou safe, and if need be, comfort Kala."

Sol bowed his head.

Following Malik out the door Yugi clenched his hands to his sides. He barely felt the change in temperature as they exited the castle into the courtyard where Joey was waiting with two fire trucks and their armored jeep.

He set his jaw tight as he heaved himself into the jeep, grabbing a helmet from Joey and pulling it tight over his head.

"Time to slay a Dragon."

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It really annoyed Yugi that he could not remember the name of the old woman who had told them to plant the crops away from the community. She had been a great commodity to the community, and gardening had been her gift.

Maintaining the crops in a single congested area attracted far too much attention, so the old woman had made them split the crops into different segments wherever good, untainted soil could be found. Untainted soil was hard to find, and when it was found, it was used right there where they found it.

The drive to the crops felt like hours, though truthfully it was only a solid rush of thirty-odd minutes in a high-speed rage down the crest of the valley wastelands that hid the castle.

Yugi could feel each tearing breathe in his chest, ripping claws into his lungs. Every bump threatened to lurch something out of his stomach. He had not been this much of a nervous ball since his last trip into the ruins of Glasgow. They had found Kala then, what had he been, fifteen? That was almost fourteen years ago—sweet heavens—he was getting old, was he even thirty yet—when was his birthday, why was he thinking this now?

Had it been a clothes shop, had he seriously found Kala in a clothes shop? He had fallen down a shaft in a mall and landed next to a sacredly clad, dirty girl and spent the next two days talking the wonders of high-heels and their usefulness of a weapon until Joey found them.

Fun times, but friggen heck, had his stomach been a knot then and it was a knot now, only there was no pretty girl to keep him company. He just had Malik breathing on his neck, reminding him to never mention those cold Glasgow nights down a shaft in a clothes shop and hot teenage sex.

He would never again be able to take high-heel shoes seriously. Killing mutant zombies with them was just too cool.

Joey slammed on the breaks, bouncing them down a ridge. Yugi caught sight of the stolen jeeps and the crops. His fingers on the bar above him tightened. Joey speared them to one side and they howled across the gravel. Yugi leapt over the moving vehicle, pointing to Malik and shouting.

"Have the fire trucks set up a perimeter, hopefully we're in time and can get the de-scenting equipment up and running. Joey, gathering up everyone Richard brought with him, send them home! I'm finding Richard."

"Don't you kill him Yugi!" Malik howled.

"Whatever." He jogged into the high rows of corns and tomatoes. Oddly enough, he really hated tomatoes; something about their color, red—like blood, flames, blood and flames.

"Richard! Richard, you filthy son of a—"

Yugi yelped involuntarily as he slammed into a body. He was sent stumbling back, managing only to catch himself with a backward step. The youth he had hit was not so lucky, landing on his backside with a heavy thump. Yugi seized him before he could crawl away, dragging him up by the ties of his shirt. It was one of the youths of the community who worked in the mines. Yugi brought their faces together, hoping the anger he felt that one of their young had been so convinced by Richard that they would dare harm the rest of the community.  
"Where is Richard, Val?"  
"Yug…Yugi…sir—."

"Don't you fraking, 'sir' me, boy! Where is Richard, why did you believe anything he said?"

"He…he threatened us…he…he said he'd tell you we'd been slacking off work…and stealing rations. He…he said that if you…you found out that you…you'd kick us out!" Val squeaked.

Yugi fought tears. "You honestly believe I would do that? That I would boot you out just be being a typical teenager! Val, I would never kick you out unless you threatened someone. Slacking off and stealing a few protein bars gets you a slap on the arse, it doesn't get you booted out. Now this, this is a whole other level! Richard is a fool—."

A barking laugh filtered through the corn crops and Yugi turned. He threw Val behind him protectively, flicking his gaze about the twisting tall storks. Nothing stirred. There was not even a wind to blow up ash under them. He curled up his top lip, fisting his fingers and carefully tugged free the dagger under his vest. The heavy press of boots upon the soil snapped is attention about and Yugi twisted. There he was, the man who had caused all the trouble, through the high storks.

"A man's gotta do what he's gotta do to keep his family alive, Yugi Motou, you understand that."

Yes, he did actually.

Richard lunged. Yugi grabbed the arm that held the knife aimed for him. He snarled at the sight of the curved shining blade. It was his Dragon knife, from his Slayers equipment.

"Val! Run!" he shouted back to the teen, who needed no second bidding.

Yugi smashed a knee into Richard's chest. Their movements were quick as they sparred, and he had to seriously give Richard credit for being fast on his feet despite his far bigger hulk.

Yugi finally weaseled around the man, getting both his arms around his back and using a free leg to smash him down into the soil. He wanted nothing more than to end his life in one swift blow, but Alfred's voice remained a firm, stout reminder in his mind.

"Frak this Richard! If you had just taken the de-scenting equipment," Yugi panted, "I might have let you go!"

Richad snarled, "What, you _scared_ Slayer." He spat blood, "There hasn't been a Dragon sighting in nearly eight months."

"Why do you think that is? Because I go out every week and make sure the Dragons know a Slayer is around protecting this area, you moron." Yugi struck him hard, "So be grateful a female Dragon in heat hasn't picked up your stench and come roaring down the valley wanting to eat your ash. Now I'm bringing you back for trial…no matter how much I want to gut you."

It had to be a plank of wood. It struck him from behind, sending him rolling off Richard into the uprooted corn storks. Light scattered across his vision. Every ounce of him wanted to curl up, to protect his skull from any more pain but he weakly scrambled about for his dagger in the soil.

"Thanks Val," Richard affirmed.

Yugi blinked at the tears, staring at Val with the plank of wood. No, the teenager had not just done that. No!

The teenager threw the plank away, holding out a hand for Richard. "Come on, we still have time to get away, get your kids and make a run for it."

Richard grinned. "Yep."

"Val!" Yugi straightened. His shout of warning falling on deaf ears. Richard thrust the Dragon knife up and through Val's throat. He flung the limp body aside.

Yugi moved for his dagger. No amount of speed, he knew, would have made the outcome any different. The blow to his skull would have been disastrous in any situation. He had no ability to move.

The Dragon knife came through his chest, once, twice and a third time. Each time felt slightly different, and he was oddly perplexed to realize that he contemplated each one. They neither burned with pain nor felt as though it was a horrible, maddening experience. It was just in, out, in, out, in out. Maybe he should have been glad Richard was a big, strong man or it might have been worse.

Actually, now it hurt.

Yugi stared at the stupid oaf as blood leaked between his lips. He caught the sound of the high-pitched squawk of a female Dragon bearing down upon them as his final breath seeped out. Richard's body burst into flames, combusting so pleasantly.

Heat! Heat was everywhere. He was the heat, was he? He was not sure. The flames were around him, within him, consuming him, becoming him. Yugi choked. Air—it tasted like it had in Egypt, hot, filtering off the sand-dunes in the prime of the day. There was a golden purity surrounding him, in the flames that could have been as incandescent as the sun, or as richly adoring as the stars crowning the heavens.

His chest clenched. He wanted to cry out. The sensation of rebuilding muscles and skin snapped like a quick zipping pull that left him breathless. He found himself lying in a pool of ash, surrounded by the burning corps.

On his chest the delicate inverted pyramid glittered. He touched it.

Blood smeared his fingers. Yes, it was his blood, because he had been stabbed by his own blade. A smile crept over his lips as his fingers tightened about the jewel. It was hotter than the hot air around him and yet his skin did not burn upon touching it.

A roar brought him tumbling back into the zone of reality. The ground vibrated as the female Dragon shattered into a landing, blustering up ash and dust. She thundered up to him, front talons barely missing his legs.

The Dragon's triangular head bent, her large eye narrowing as she squared him in a gaze. Yugi spread his lips, hissing. She reared her fangs, spitting acid. She dribbled the sizzling spittle over him. Yet she did not open wide her mouth to chomp down upon his flesh, nor burn his bones to ash.

Yugi lay blankly in the surrounding flames, weak, unable to move. Why was she not attacking, she knew exactly where he was and what he was? Did he smell wrong? No Dragon before, other than the First, had ever turned its nose up at wanting to chop or burn him to pieces. Was it because the fire did not harm him, or the pedant he now wore?

She snorted and suddenly took to the air. Yugi flinched as heat burst around him once more, the flames kicked up into a frenzy at the wind of her wings. She screeched to the sky, taking flight over the ridge. His stomach knotted. He knew just where she was heading. She might not have wanted him for a meal, but there was ash aplenty in the castle yonder the valley.

Rising to his feet Yugi snatched up his Dragon knife, peering through the blazing inferno that had become the crops.

He swore.

Coughing out blood Yugi touched his chest. No wounds. But hell, he still felt like the knife he held had gone through every inch of his lungs. So the super-pendant did something after all—now—if only it could teleport him magically to the castle. He managed a run, ignoring the blood leaking from his mouth and the spears in his chest. The thought of the castle in burning ruin spurred him on, through the flames. He was running through fire.

Really, if only his grandfather could see him now.

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Ryou pressed his hand against the floor of his chamber. The old cold stones trembled. So, fate had finally caught up with them. He supposed he should not have been all that surprised; truly, it was incredible that they had survived so long. Snatching his medical kit from the table he attached it to his waist and opened a cupboard, pulling out the assortment of blades and a coat he shrugged over his shoulders.

His pace quickened, searching for what his father would need on the road.

A high-pitched shriek shook the walls. The window glass shattered. Ryou collapsed to his knees, throwing his arms about his head protectively.

"Father…" he gasped out, daring to peer up through the smoke. Through the window, she was there. It was very much a female, by the scent of her sweet acidic spit that melted through the stones.

Her large head, covered in jeweled scales, glowing like flowing molten rock, tipped to one side as though curious at the sight of him. A single eye's iris widened, settling on his crouched shape.

Ryou glanced at the door to his father's chamber. Heat was radiating from the gap beneath it. He fought back the ache in his chest, the desire to scream, to screech, to raise hell or to at least shed a single tear for the loss.

Was the Dragon leering at him? No. They did not have that kind of intelligence to leer.

He weighed the situation.

One, two—three—tearing out the door he left behind the foul squeals of the beast as her claws tore through the high-tower. Each bound he took down the stairs felt a hairs breath away from being plunged into engulfing flames.

Sol and Kala.

Sol and Kala.

Find Sol and Kala.

Nothing now mattered but that singular goal. Kala would be with the orphans, Sol he had sent to find her near fifteen minutes ago. Would everyone be in a collective chamber? Would all the orphans survive, who was manning the mining tunnels, and who was at the water-tower. Yugi had prepared the community for this day, drilled every member on their allocated task so why was no one doing—

A weapon fired. Ryou dropped back, is head snapped around, spotting the bullet hole in the corridor wall. A woman was holding a gun. Re-aiming it. Ryou frowned.

"Put that down, now." He dropped his tone.

"That Dragon…it's here because…because we have let defiled one's dwell amongst us! They have brought Tribulation down upon us—"

"I do not have time for this."

Ryou ran, pulling free a dagger of ice from under his coat, ending her with a swift strike through the spinal cord. He whipped around, hitting the man in the shadows of the doorway with a twisted strike across the face from his foot. He thrust down with the dagger, slicing through his throat. Quickly he stood, glancing around.

Apparently he had two people to find in a horde of crazy. So much for all of Yugi's plans.

"Someone had better pull that damned water-tower plug or we're all going to be burning in hell," he snarled.

Twisting away he headed for the orphans rooms, deeper into the heart of the castle. It was unclear how long the Dragon would take to consume everything they loved, but if the water-tower failed them and no one made it safely into the mine tunnels it was safe to say they had lost their battle.

He glanced back at the dead bodies.

"I am evidently going to regret that later," he muttered.

He always did.

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Dad had not killed the Dragon. He was not at all surprised.

What he was surprised about was that someone like Richard had not caused this kind of calamity until now. Was it because of his Dad and his Uncles or something divine, that their community had held out so long?

Yeah, it was that. He liked to think that.

Sol sped through the commotion of the lower-levels. People were running everywhere, screaming and yelling, doing what people did when a Dragon came, panicking. The screeching of the female beast was not far, nor was the sound of its talon's tearing at the castle walls. He tried to think of Uncle Ryou in the high tower, up there all alone with Alfred—no—Uncle Ryou had firmly instructed him to find Kala and bring her to the courtyard with the orphans, if possible, if not, he was to get to the courtyard on his own.

He had to leave Kala, he had to leave the other kids. How could he do that? How could he leave anyone behind? It hurt inside, it hurt too much…

Someone thrust past him.

Sol squeaked as he hit the nearby wall, bouncing off it. He was lucky he was still bouncy, Dad did not bounce all that well, he had no padding, like Kala. Why was that funny? He did not know, but it made Uncle Malik cackle.

Recovering Sol peeled back his damp hair. Yuk, he was so sweaty. The air was beginning to get hot, smoke was pouring through doorways. People were trying to get out through ways that were not out-ways. Stupid people!

There…there—he saw him, the man who had pushed him!

Weevil! That slimy, disgusting slung. What was he doing holding Kala like that, by her hair? Making use of a Dragon attack's panic! Sol growled. Scrambling up he dashed after them, down the flight of stairs deeper into the belly of the castle. Rocks tumbled around them, the roof of the castle shattering, flames pouring down the walls as the liquid spit of the Dragon seeped into every nook. He lost sight of them both.

"Ah, potty," Sol hissed.

A loud cry caught his attention. Kala. Spinning on his heels Sol crept forward. Was Weevil hurting her again? Sol gasped as the man ran past, carrying Kala now. He was heading for the mines!

Weevil was running away! Alone! How dare he do that, not helping anyone and hurting Kala. He was horrible and nasty, he was a bad man.

Sol gritted his teeth, pulling out his dagger from his belt.

A dagger was a good weapon for a little boy, that was what Dad said. It was small, easy to conceal, and could be thrown a good distance. He was not going to throw it. He was going to do an Uncle Malik approach.

Sol burst into a run. He leapt up a discarded wheel-barrow. He gave a shout. Weevil turned at the noise. The man yowled in surprise as Sol sliced at his back.

"Drop her!"

Weevil did. He threw Kala away. She landed limply on the floor, rolling a few times. Sol shoved the wheel-barrow. It hit Weevil and the man stumbled back.

Taking the moment Sol attacked his legs, cause they were all he could reach, cutting at them. Weevil landed on the floor with a heavy crack. Sol landed atop him, dagger raised.

The flames were intense above the ceiling, the Dragon's acidic spit had seeped deep, melting everything it touched with hot flames. Why had no one pulled the water-tower plug? Who was manning the station? Weevil smashed him aside. Sol hit the floor, choking from the strike.

He clawed his fingers around his dagger. Weevil scrambled for Kala. To kill her? No! Sol grabbled for his ankle, stabbing at it, knowing he cut those things called tendons, making Weevil shriek. Uncle Malik was right, it was gratifying, until Weevil kicked him, knocking his nose and making him taste his own blood. No, that was not gratifying.

They fought. Somehow his dagger ended up far away from him. Something Dad said never to let happen. Sol pushed back to the wall as Weevils hand's closed around his wrists.

"You little mite, I am gonna spill your insides." Weevil leered.

Sol spat into his face. "You think I'm scared of you? I ain't scared!"

Weevil blinked at the spittle. "You will be—"

Through the smoke Sol watched as a hand came out, closing around Weevil's hair, dragging him away. Ryou stepped free of the falling ash. A blade of ice hued off Weevil's arm, and Sol listened with satisfaction as Weevil screamed. Ryou held a hand to the severed junction, icing over the bleeding stubble.

"Get out of this alive, bug, I want to see you crawl away and survive hell." The young lord snarled, so much like a beast, with the flames dancing around him in a halo of color, mixing with his shimmering silver hair and the gloss of his pale skin. Sol blinked. His tiny chest was to sore now too breathe and everything was becoming too heavy. Ryou's footsteps approached, that was all he could truly comprehend. The cool touch gathered around him and he lifted up, gathered against a frozen chest and surrounded by the whitest of soft, fluffy and cold stuff. Snow? Was that it? Dad had once told him about snow, it was like ash, but it just was not ash, it was really, really, really cold water.

Ryou bent down again, but this time, he heard his uncle grunt and shuffle. He tried hard to open his eyes, he ordered them open. Everything was red, hot, scorching, but they were not burning. Ryou was beside Kala, lifting her up and cradling her.

Slowly his Uncle turned away, walking through the fire. He shook his head, whispering, "Fiddling while Rome burns, heh, Sol."

He did not know what Rome was, but it sounded kind of sad.

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The failure to protect his community was going to simmer in his soul. So many of the people there had depended upon him for years, and he had been unable to uphold his promise to keep them safe. Yugi staggered out of the smoldering crops, clutching at his chest. His mouth still tasted bitter with blood, mixed with ash. Hazily, through the smoke, he sighted the armored jeep and ran for it.

Yugi landed against its heavy hull as Joey's arms wrapped around him. "Yugi! _Frudgeit_ man, I thought yeh were dead!"

Yugi shook Joey off. "There is not time to explain, Joseph. Just get us back to the castle."

"Yugi yer are wounded." Joey grabbed his shoulders. He was too weak to wrench away from the loud-mouthed American. Why was he just not doing what he said? Joey's hands went under his vesting and Yugi twitched at the touch.

"What are you doing, feeling me up? I am fine. Get off!"

"Yer half out of it, Yugi."

"Because I bet I lost half my body weight in blood." Yugi spat. "Yes, Richard gutted me like a pig, but I am fine. Let's go. The Dragon has a head-start, we're going to find a burning piece of hell-fire when we get there and it's my fraking fault. So move!" He pointed his Dragon knife under his friend's throat, watching him gulp. Joey moved. Mayhap it was the fear in his eyes, the dread of what they would find, that made him heave himself into the driver's seat.

Before Yugi could protest he was plucked off the ground and into the back of the vehicle. "What happened to the fire truck, apparently one is burning and…?" He coked out at Malik, who held him upright. He was impossibly grateful for the supportive strength, though through his foggy head he really could not tell why in that moment. Usually he just hated feeling weak in front of Malik.

"Yeah, a bunch of Richard's guys ran off with the other before we could hit at them. I think we shot one of their tires out though." Malik shrugged.

Yugi cussed. Well, he hoped they all starved to death then!

Malik's hand tightened around his shoulder. "You healed yourself, didn't you? Like Ryou can."

"But I didn't slay the Dragon."

"Ryou will protect those he desires to." Malik held onto a bar tightly, his eyes tight to the distance. "We at least know the Ring can do that."

Yugi bowed his head, staring at the small bloodied gold pendant bouncing around his neck. Ryou was a gentle, kind soul, a healer and a nurturer, but like him, there was a trigger. Ryou's was just harder to switch.

"He is not a Slayer, Malik. He will not be able to kill that Dragon."

"No," Malik bowed his head, "But humans he has no problem with. Why do you think we leave him behind? It's not the Dragon that becomes our enemy."

Yugi had to bitterly agree. Humans became their own worst enemy when the shadow of chaos fell.

The drive back felt longer than any drive he had ever taken. His head was set on the Dragon, his heart was set on Sol. It felt wrong, to feel as though all the lives of those in the castle were not worth as much to him as little Solomon—he was a terrible, horrible person for making such a cruel judgment—but in a world so bitter, ruined and foul as theirs had become, people could only love one thing, and could only take what was their own.

Had that been his down-fall, had he tried to save too much and love everyone? He was never going to be strong enough to save everyone! Yugi bowed his head. A tear streaked a line down his dirty cheek as he clutched at the warm pendent. He wished, so much, that he had the power to save just one more person, and another, and another, and together, they would keep building on that.

Surely their world was not as far gone as to lose all hope—

Malik's shout sent a cringe through him. Yugi did not want to look up. He did not want to bear witness to the scene that he could hear over the engine of the jeep; the roar of flames, the screeching of the Dragon, and distant screams.

"Cut the engines Joey!" Malik snapped.

Joey obeyed. Malik stood aloft the bonnet, gazing forlornly upon the burning castle. His fists clenched, body tense, jaw like iron.

"All because Richard wanted some unripe tomatoes." Joey bowed his head onto the steering wheel. Yugi heard his soft sob.

He climbed over the seats, joining Malik on the bonnet.

He felt as though he was watching London burn all over again.

"Mal!"

Yugi's chest tightened. Malik twisted. The voice was faint.

"Mal! Malik! Mal! Yugi!"

Yugi grabbed Malik's arm. "Kala."

"Heck yeah," Malik leapt off the jeep, "only woman I know who can scream to the heavens like a goddess." He whooped, "Kala! Honey," the Egyptian bellowed, "we're here!"

Yugi spotted two figures running up the road. Two—Kala draped in Ryou's over-coat and Ryou jogging along beside her, he searched for Sol, surely Ryou would have found Solomon. Unless. Blood rushed through his ears as his mind went blank. No Sol. He could not take that. Sol was his lifeline, the only reason why he wanted to exist in this dump of a world.

Malik dashed for them and Yugi followed, skidding over the rocks and dirt. His heart leapt into his throat as he finally spied Sol tucked into Ryou's arms. He held back his cry, keeping in inside, but it was there, like a praising shout of thanks. He could have kissed Ryou.

All three were covered in soot, dirty and smelling of the thick scent of Dragon spit, but they were alive and unburned.

Yugi clasped Ryou's cheeks, burrowing his head into his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered, "thank you."

"I could not get the orphans. The whole bloody north wall came down before I reached the main hall. I think there was a blockage in the water system." Ryou eased Sol into his arms, "He has smoke inhalation, get him and Kala some water. Quickly now."

They headed back to the jeep. Joey watched the sky anxiously. Malik found the supplies, pulling out blankets, medical kit and water. He settled Kala down and offered the water. Yugi crouched in the jeeps bunker, wrapping Sol up tightly in a blanket. He was shivering, and felt frozen stiff.

Ryou brushed at the boy's hair. "I'm afraid Yugi, he meet with Weevil and had to do a bit of ruff and tumbling with the man."

Yugi accepted water from Malik. "Had your first fight, Sol?"

Sol peered up and nodded weakly.

Yugi studied the boy's bloodied face, knuckles and neck. There was going to be bruising, and he had bled.

"Don't waste your healing, Ryou. He's got some battle scars." Yugi kissed the boy's cheek. "Good job." Tightening the blankets Yugi leapt back out of the jeep, gazing over what had been their land. A part of him wanted to stay, to stake out the ridge and wait for other survivors, but the heat he could feel even from this distance and a nibbling part of his mind told him that it was only due to Ryou and his Ring that Sol and Kala had survived the rage of the Dragon.

He glanced at the inverted pyramid.

Just what were these Items? Why did they repel fire?

"We'd best get moving," Malik wrapped Kala in an arm. "That Dragon will feast until she brings in more. Yugi?"

Yugi stirred. He narrowed his lips. There was truth enough in his fellow Slayers words; it was too dangerous to stay here now, the fire the Dragon had raged would be smelt by dozens more. He twisted his fingers around his Dragon knife. A wall of the castle crumbled into the crimson inferno and he watched as the shape of the Dragon rose up, her wings crowning her glorious meal in victory. He spat at the ground in disgust.

"Next time, princess, you and me are going to piss it out until one of us bends over." He grabbed the side of the jeep as Joey fired the engines. His gaze rested upon Sol and the boy's wide eyes, fearfully staring at the sky in horror at the unknown ahead of them. He reached out, brushing at the boy's pale brown bangs.

For now though, the Dragons could wait. He had something far more important; keeping the rest of his family alive in a world hell bent on killing them. Outside of the castle, everything wanted a piece of human meat.

Everything—

Even humans.

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It might have been some kind of man-made shed, a long time ago, but now it was a shambled together piece of rusted out iron hull. It did well enough however, as shelter from the drizzling rain and to hide away the armored vehicle.

Malik had found enough dry wood inside to start a small fire. They ate a tiny amount of rations from the emergency kit in the jeep. Now Yugi found himself lying on a blanket, shirt off, bare to the cold, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rain drops.

Ryou was gently prodding at him, brow drawn in concern.

"Stabbed…" the healer mused. "Richard actually managed to stab you, three times."

Yugi nodded. "I can still feel the ache."

"Poor Val, I cannot imagine he realized striking you over the head would have such dire consequences. I have a feeling what you're suffering from currently is the result of the concussion, not the stabbing." Ryou pulled away, throwing him back his shirt and jumper.

"I have a pretty awful headache, that a bad sign." Yugi rubbed his eyes.

Ryou frowned, "I cannot sense that there is any terminal damage to the brain." He sorted through his medical bag thoughtfully and pulled out a case of pills. Tipping out two he handed them over.

"This should take the edge off. Not as good as the old stuff, but I try. It'll make you drowsy though."

Yugi shrugged, "To be honest, I really could do with a nap."

"I know…" Ryou strung a hand through his knotted hair. "Can I borrow your knife, by the way?" he muttered.

Yugi glanced at him oddly. "Ah, sure." He found it beside his pack and handed it over. Ryou held it to his hair, contemplating lengths before deciding on a final cut and slicing through the long tail. He handed back the Dragon knife with a bitter sigh.

His white hair was now a small bun. Easier to cope with, Yugi supposed. Though he highly doubted Kala was going to go and cut her hair anytime soon, even if it was a pretty good idea. Getting an infestation of mites was the last thing they wanted while being unwashed on the road.

Yugi slid his knife back into its spot.

"What do you think, though…about the magical healing? Technically, I should be dead." Yugi drowned the medication with a gulp.

Ryou curled his legs under a blanket. He tapered his lips.

"Father was right to give you the Pyramid. He theorized that it was the Item that embodied the six others, rather like the over-lord Item."

"The One Ring to Rule them All," Yugi chimed.

Ryou laughed. "Something like that."

"Think I have healing powers like you?"

"I do not think so," Ryou mused. "It is my theory that each Item enhances a trait in the bearer, and acts in a symbiotic nature to its host. It will continue to make sure that you live, because you provide it with life, and it will provide you with something in return. While you wear it, it can remain functioning…whatever that entails I do not know. I have not understood what the Ring does, even after having worn it most of my life."

"Did your Father have any working theories on what it all meant—"

"Try to get some sleep." Ryou eased to his feet. "You'll feel better for it. I'll keep a watch over Sol."

"Thanks Ryou."

Ryou headed for the jeep and vanished into it. Yugi heard soft voices, Sol's somewhere in there. He closed his eyes from the glare of the fire. Fire, always fire. It was both a blessing from the gods of old and a curse from the Dragons anew. He settled down into the blanket. Ryou had cut him off entirely, so he figured whenever his friend was ready to talk he would talk about his father and whatever the old-man had known.

"Dragons…the world went crazy when we awoke a Dragon, Jii-chan."

Sleep, he hoped, was not far off.

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_To be perfectly honest, Yami was darn sure he was going somewhat insane. It had been three weeks since the last time this dream-world of gray haze had stolen his peaceful slumber away—only now—he was not really sure if he was in peaceful slumber at all._

_The last thing he remembered he was being carted into the infirmary like a child in the arms of his father. The moment he was settled into the bed, the pain in his chest intensified and he could have sworn, then and there, the skin was melting off his bones._

_Maybe Bakura knocked him out, or maybe he had blacked out._

_Whatever had happened, he was now here, again, in this land-between-places. The white veil hung in the air, coating everything around him. This time he was not in a courtyard of a broken, crumbling castle, instead, it could have been a garden, maybe? It was just, everything was frozen in time, and gray, like a blanket, had fallen across everything. There was sound, but it was muted and it echoed, drifting as if it was dipping from somewhere very far away._

_Yami touched his chest, wincing at its ache. His whole body was covered in a cold sweat._

"_Oh, it's you again," the dry drawl startled him. "Yippee."_

_Yami reached for his sword, pausing as he came up short for it. He was still in his armor, but his claymore was not at his side. _

_He snapped around. Yugi—right—that was his name. The apparition stood a few meters back, hands deep in the pockets of low riding jeans. The loose knitted jumper he wore was torn and bloodied. He could smell the charred scent of burnt flesh and the ash even from this distance. He looked as though he had been in one hell of a fight, and had not come out of it on top.  
_

_In the gray world around them, the man was like a beacon of blazing color. They really did look eerily similar, was it their stances, or just their hair, because it could not have been anything else, they were entirely different nationalities. So what made him feel as though he was staring at a mirror when he obviously was not?_

"_Yugi…"_

"_Yeah, we established that the last time, Red-Eyes." _

_Red-Eyes—oh right—his eyes, the apparition had thought he was a Dragon._

"_I am not a Dragon." Why was he trying to defend himself to a ghosty-dream-guy?_

"_You're a figment of my demented imagination, so whatever." The man waved a hand, turning to walk away. "It doesn't matter anymore, nothing does." _

_Each step he took kicked up stones, echoing the clicking sounds around them as they floated into the air to dance before drifting back onto the ground. Yami heard him cough and watched as he spat out blood. The red glean of it was stark against the white rocks. His eyes widened and he held a hand to his chest. Was the apparition in pain also?_

"_Yugi..." he called out, moving quickly, chasing after him, though he did not know what possessed him too. "Are you hurt?"_

_The man twisted about and Yami found himself on the hard ground, a hand around his throat. The weight was real, the warmth of the body pressing hard on his chest was real, and the hand that tightened around his wind-pipe was very much real. _

_He stared into the stark eyes gaping down at him like some frightened, skittish animal. _

_Yugi released his throat and he gagged for air. _

"_Was I hurt? Yes. Red-Eyes, one of your females slaughtered my entire community, and getting stabbed hurts too, you know."_

_Stabbed, well, he guessed that explained the pain in his chest. It did not explain why he was feeling it. _

"_I am not a Dragon!" A knee was ground deep into his stomach. Yami struck him, they rolled, and Yami slapped the smaller frame down. Did this little guy not weight anything? Seriously! The man erupted in a coughing fit. By his apparent arm waving for a yield Yami figured he was beginning to formulate the same mental conclusion...the pain in this eerie ashen world was as genuine as it was outside, and the coughing he was enduring was just as debilitating. _

"_Yugi. Please. I am not a Dragon. I am really a knight. I live in a community called Hedingham in whatever is left of England. You have a slight Scottish twang, so I'm going to presume you're in Scotland, though…you don't look Scottish." _

"_Oh, genius you are."_

"_You're inside my dreams."_

"_No, really." Yugi spat more blood. _

_Yami stared at it. "Yugi, you're not in good shape."_

"_Real genius, what did you do, go to genius school or something?" _

"_I'm not joking, I can feel the pain."  
"What?" Yugi raked a hand through his hair, staggering onto his feet. _

"_That's why I am here. I got knocked out. When whatever happened to you happened, I…I…I don't know…I felt it." _

_It was as though he was now being seen for the first time. Whatever wall had been up had crumbled. Yugi stepped one pace closer to him upon the ground, his head tilted to one side. The man's hand grasped tight around something under his torn jumper and his lips parted. "You…couldn't possibly be…"_

_Yugi's eyes narrowed._

"_Someone is trying to wake me." He twitched. "Strange, that I can feel and hear them." _

_Yami's brow furrowed. He concentrated. Sure enough, now that he was aware of the voice, it was there, like a soft tickling feather. _

"_Who is that?"_

"_Not your business, Red-Eyes."_

"_I am not a Dragon—"_

Yami breathed in deeply, stirring awake. Above him was a low ceiling and a dim light. It was dark in a warm room and he turned, studying his surroundings piece by piece. By the sounds about him, it was very early morning, and he was deep underground within Hedingham. Only the cooks would have been awake preparing for the morning meal. He could already smell the scent of the baking goods. Bread, hot, fresh bread—it made his stomach clench at the divinity of it.

But he was in a comfortable bed, not his own though. It was one of the beds of the infirmary.

Beside him, in the bed over, lay Bakura. He smiled weakly, grateful that the stupid idiot never left his side.

"So, you're finally awake." Isis' melodic voice whispered, barely disturbing the peace. He heard the soft rustling of fabric and turned in the direction of the sound, peering through the dim light to watch the healer as she approached. She was an elegantly graceful woman, skin darker than his and his father's combined, and smoother than the surface of a well-oiled blade.

A woman who's beauty went beyond the horrific Dragon burns that had destroyed the flesh she kept hidden with her dresses, for her smiles and laugher lit up a room. She was like the goddess she was named after, and he admired her so endearingly like a mother. He had never known one, and since coming to England, she had just slipped into the role.

She set down a hot beverage on a table and aided him upright, puffing up the pillows, before passing him the drink. He smelt the hot milk and cuddled it warmly to his chest.

"You were dreaming." Isis smoothed back his fringe.

Yami glanced toward her, "I was?"

"Do not act dumb, Atemu." She smirked at him. "As your doctor it is vital I know everything that is going on inside that hard head of yours." She gave his skull a tap. "Your father was very worried, it took me some time to get him to leave. As you can see, Bakura insisted on not leaving."

Yami sighed, taking a long sip of the warm milk.

"I suppose it was a follow on from a dream I had a couple weeks ago. It was strange though, it was almost as if…no time has passed for the other guy. Can dreams do that, can you just…pop back into one?"

"I do not know. Who was 'the-other-guy'?"

"I think…he was the one who was wounded, though why that would hurt me, I don't know. Maybe I just dreamed it all up to explain my pain or something. Maybe I'm sick…"

"Don't jump to any conclusions, dear." Isis touched his arm, "According to me, you're as fit and healthy as always."

He relaxed. That was good. Yami studied the milk, "Well…I find myself in this gray world of stopped time, and there is always this other-guy, and I feel like I'm looking in a mirror, but I'm not, you know." He cringed. This was not going well, he was an awful explainer of really bad topics. At least it was Isis and not Bakura, this would be worse if it was Bakura and the guy was drunk.

"I think he called himself Yugi Motou—."

He heard Isis' shape intake of breath, "Yugi?" She wrenched back from him, her hands tight to her chest. Yami set aside his milk, staring at her gaped expression. Never had she looked so pale, even when confronted with torn off limbs and bloodied bodies, she had not faltered. This was not his Isis, this was a little girl, trembling as though she had just seen a ghost.

"Did you just…did you just say Yugi Motou?"

"Yes, I did. Why?" He wanted to reach out to her, to comfort, to do something.

"Did he…did he," she grabbed his arm, "did he say, did he say anything about my little brother! Malik! Was Malik with him?" Tears caught on her lashes.

Yami stared blankly at her. So, he was not dreaming real dreams after all.

They were something else entirely were they?

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Ryou heard him. Little Sol was shuffling on his bum through the dim shadows. He smiled, taking note of the tiny boy trying to be discrete as though not to wake Yugi. It was painfully adorable to watch. Finally Sol made it to his side and he was leaned against. Silence reigned between them as they studied the night sky together through the holes in the old shed. The fire was just enough to keep them somewhat warm, but not enough to attract any Dragons.

At least Sol was not scared of fire, and it could still bring them comfort for all of the horrors it had brought them in the last twenty-four hours.

Sol's hand tightened around his arm.

"Uncle Ryou, are you sad?"

"I suppose I am." It was no use lying to the kid.

"Are you sad because everyone is dead, like your Dad, and the castle, and everyone inside?"

Ryou studied his fingers. It could not be seen in the dim fire light, but the blood was there, around the curves of the nail beds. It was a very unnerving thing when the blood-lust took over, the ability to kill without chagrin. He was not Ryou in those moments, yet he was Ryou, he had total control only he was just switched to kill.

It had begun in Glasgow, when he was fifteen; they had been pinned down by mutation zombies. Needing to instinctively protect himself and his core family had triggered a burst of adrenalin. He was able to overtake even Yugi's forte in those given periods. However it always left him feeling a great deal of personal disgust, as if he was doing something illegal, that he was not allowed to do.

"Death, Sol, happens to everyone eventually. My father's time had come, and the time of our community had come." Ryou placed a hand gently upon Sol's head. "I am sad because I killed people, and that is never a good thing."

"But…my Dad says killing people when you have to can protect you."

"Your father has a warped sense of justice, because this world is not a good one anymore, Sol. Indeed, we have to fight for our own survival. Just…don't ever become like Uncle Malik. Torturing people is a bad road to go down. He takes too much pleasure out of it." Ryou sighed. Maybe if Malik had moved on Kala quicker he would have found more pleasure in a woman and less in cutting men's fingers off. If only. Oh, how cruel the world after Dragons had crafted them all to be, when once they had been children catching tadpoles under the shade of the ruins of an ancient temple.

"Should I be more like you?" Sol piped up.

Ryou laughed softly.

"Solomon Jr. be yourself. You are only ever supposed to be yourself."

Maybe someday he would take his own advice.

Sol climbed into his lap and curled up tightly.

"Uncle Ryou?"

"Yes, Sol?"

"I love you."

Ryou smiled. He wrapped the boy in his arms. "I love you too, Solomon. Jr. That is something the Dragon's haven't taken away."

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_I do so hope you enjoyed this update!_

_Thank you so much for reading. I am incredibly grateful for your time my friends._

_Hugs,_

_KL_


	4. Chapter 3 - Beyond the Black Stump

_Hey guys, so I really hope you enjoy this small update. I am really sorry for not having been around much lately but life kind of swamped me with my novel, my brother getting married and well…life I guess…but I am trying super hard to get back into writing again. It's funny, I haven't been doing much writing and it makes me really sad that I feel into this terrible place of being unable to write…of losing my confidence due to the experience of publishing my first novel. _

_Which by the way, the novel will soon be out! In the next month hopefully, if all continues to go well. Yay! Check my facebook page or my deviantART page for updates in that regard._

_To tie you over until then, I have started uploading my own personal work on fictionpress as well under AuthorKylie. So you're very welcome to check that out if you feel so inclined._

_And…I am beginning to write Those Distant Stars Season 2 again._

_Yep._

_Started that up as well, had a lot of requests and figured, well, I should obey. So if you enjoyed that fanfiction, well, I'll be uploading something again soon!_

_Keep well folks,_

_Thanks for reading and all your support._

_Hugs,_

_KL_

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**Chapter 3: Beyond the Black Stump**

The shock of the devastation would never truly wear off—nor would how startling the realization that humanity meant nothing when their empire and control collapsed in a tumbling of bricks. The years should have dulled the senses to the sight of the desolate landscape of the once infinite high-way dotted with the hulls of cars—but they did not.

When a vast amount of the population died, either from the first of the Dragon attacks, the plagues, then nuclear strikes, every established network crumbled. Chaos—Yugi remembered the chaos.

The plant life though, surrounding him, under his feet, was new. He had not seen nature in such full-bloom in years and the very smell of vegetation was almost as alien as the color of the flora around him. He had not realized that the mutations they had begun to see in Humans was outplaying in nature as well.

It was breathtaking. Was this Mother Earth reclaiming herself? It was almost beautiful, the overgrown highway caked with twisted trees, leaves a tinted purple, bent through overturned cars. The flowers spread towards a sun that was barely visible in the haze of the yellow, sickened clouds that threatened to spew toxic rains down upon them at some point.

Was this even Earth?

Curling his fingers under his armpits Yugi shivered at the chill in the cold bitter air. He had been tightly cocooned in the compound far too long, he had not realized the world outside was changing around him—but was it changing for the better, he was not yet sure.

"Hey, Yug!" Joey's voice cut through the eerie peace. Yugi tipped around. Through the shrubby Joey wadded, waving his hands high. "Found anything yet?"

Yugi puffed back his bangs. He leapt down the bonnet of the car he had perched aloft and joined Joey. Truly he doubted that after so many years they would find anything of use in these rotting car hulls, but it was worth a try anyway. Raiders and radiation-zombies—or _rombies_, as Sol had dubbed them—could have missed something, anything. It was always a possibility.

"Nothing yet, maybe Malik and Ryou are having more luck, hey, Solomon, get the hell outta there! You'll cut yourself and end up with tetanus."

"What…what is tet..nus?" Sol poked his head out of a car window.

Yugi hoisted him free and set him down, ruffling his hair. "It's a disease, read about it in one of Ryou's old books. Joey and I would have been vaccinated against it when we were little but you'd have been born after all that."

Joey's paused from his stroll, looking back at Yugi with a surprise.

"Wow, I'd never thought of that Yug. Heck."

Yugi shrugged, "I'm just saying, we have to be extra careful. All of us. There is no telling what kind of diseases, virus and bacteria could be lying about."

"I'll be careful Dad!" Sol beamed.

"That's all I ask, Sol."

With a happy skip Sol leapt on ahead of them, humming to himself as he bounded through the flowers. It had to be the first time the boy had even really seen anything like trees, grass and flowers and he looked entirely at home amongst it all. He had not even enquired as to why the leaves were not green. Then again, had they ever actually told Sol that leaves were green? No. Yugi mused, he had never told Sol anything _about_ trees.

He felt a stab of regret. He had been so focused on surviving that he had forgotten what it meant to be alive. Still, Richard had been right about one thing, kids could not eat hope, and neither could adults.

At some point, they were going to run out of supplies and then what?

Joey poked his head into another car, pulling a face as he yanked open the rusted door. A skeleton fell out, crumbling onto the asphalt.

Sol made a face.

"Ewwww."

"Pay some respect Solomon Jr." Yugi chided.

"Damn," Joey cussed.

"What?" Yugi joined him, peering through the glass of the back door. He spotted what had made his friend unsettled; a baby carrier, and in it, the remains of the infant. That was unsettling and sad. Joey clambered in, rambling about in the back seat. He threw out a bag and Yugi caught it, tearing it open and shaking off dust and dirt.

"Well, we've got some baby-powder, that might come in handy, and booze, and methylated spirits. Sheesh, what the hell is gone off beer and methylated spirits doing in a clothes bag?"

"I'm sure the woman wasn't thinking straight when she was packing Yugi."

"She packed beer!"

"Maybe for her hubby." Joey chuckled, "Or for her own nerves when she had to shoot herself."

Yugi shook his head. "Hey…Joey, was there another kid in that car, because these clothes look too large for that infant?" Yugi held out a jacket, sizing it up and glancing to Sol.

Joey's head appeared. He cast out a suitcase and leapt free.

"Yep, another body in there, I think it's a kid. Hey, Sol, got a toy for you, it's a superhero!"

Yugi sighed. Superheroes, great, just great—now he would have to explain to whole concept of superheroes to his five year old that lived in a post-apocalyptic world. He handed the jacket to Sol. It appeared to be themed from some movie he was unaware of, talk about not recalling his childhood. He could not have been much older than the boy who had died when he had awakened the First Dragon.

"Is this Star Wars Dad?"

"No." Yugi shook his head. He really was not sure what it was.

"Spiderman." Joey held out the said toy that apparently went with the jacket. "I remember him, he was cool Sol. Yeh old-man wouldn't remember Spiderman, he was in Egypt digging up stupid pots and things, while I was doing cool stuff like going to the movies and reading comic books."

"Shut up." Yugi rolled his eyes. "See if there are any clothes in that suitcase for Kala."

There were clothes, warm ones thankfully. Some jackets, pants, and praiseworthy boots. Yugi shrugged on the new shirt and zipped up the coat. At least the old types of material did not decay the same as those they made now. Oh for the days when a woolen jumper was not even made out of wool!

Bearing the fruits of their search over their backs they headed for the Jeep down the edge of the highway. Already Ryou and Kala were awaiting them, sorting out their own discoveries and treasures.

Malik was aloft the vehicle, vigilant eyes watching the horizon.

"We found water," Ryou offered forthright as Yugi set a bag down beside Kala. "In a tank inside of a campervan, it was entirely sealed off so it should be alright, however I suggest boiling it."

"Good idea."

"Also, the campervan had a mattress still intact." Kala motioned to the back of the Jeep. "Malik tore it out and fitted it into our Jeep. We figured it would be good to sleep on."

"Well, I've got you clothes." Yugi crouched beside her. "So you can get out of that dirty dress."

"I would kill for a pair of bra and some sanitary pads." Kala pouted.

Yugi dug into the bag over his shoulder, throwing her a small toiletry case. "Because you're worth it," he chirped.

Kala flung her arms around his neck, laying a kiss on his cheek before vanishing into the back of the jeep and slamming shut the boot-door.

Yugi held up a finger, pointing it to Malik. "I am _the_ bomb."

"Kiss my arse, Motou."

"Where the hell did you find toiletries for a woman?" Joey blew a rasp.

Yugi sat back, flashing a grin. "Oh come on, if I told you all my dark secrets then there wouldn't be any wonder to how awesome I am."

"You still didn't find her bra." Malik sat down over the side of the Jeep, tapping the rear window, gaining a shout from the woman within.

Yugi waved him off. "Sheesh, I can't do anything."

"Besides," Ryou set a canister of gas down, smirking at Malik, "isn't that just one item of clothing less for you to tear off her."

"I heard that Ryou!" Kala howled.

Ryou faked innocence, "It was Yugi, I am a gentleman, I would never say such crude things."

"Rrrright." Joey snorted, "Yeh barking up the wrong tree. So, does anyone have any idea what we're going to do?" He handed Sol a wad of paper and a pile of half used crayons. "Where we should head?"

Yugi raised his eyebrows, more surprised at Joey's attempt to keep Sol entertained with found toy's than his effort at their tactical disadvantage. Sol's eyes at least lit up at the sight of the crayons as though it was Christmas, and he thankfully knew what to do with them.

Yugi sighed, shaking his head. "I'm not sure Joey. Heading to the larger cities is a no-go. We lost contact with all the other communities I know of in the last couple years, so I can presume they've been wiped out."

Kala popped the boot, sliding out. Dressed in fresh pants and layers of jumpers and a jacket, she threw a spare jumper up at Malik. He whistled, kicking her playfully.

"Should we try to find a place to settle again?" Kala settled beside Sol, wrapping a scarf around the boy's neck. "Just us…you know…and see if we can create a community?"

"The question is where, hon?" Malik tapped his chin on the butt of his rifle.

Yugi wearily eased to his feet, dusting off his pants. "I say we keep heading toward London. The chances are, the further we travel inland England the better our chances are at finding another community to bargain for supplies. If we can stay one step ahead of the rombies and the Raiders, we'll manage."

"Sounds like something of a plan." Joey hefted Sol up, throwing him over his shoulder. "Come on yeh little nipper, yer can ride shot-gun with me!"

"Yay!"

It was vastly reassuring to know that Sol was safe with those he trusted the most in his life. If ever he had to give his life for any of them, they in turn would look after the one thing he had tried to give everything too. Yugi heaved the gas cans up, dumping them into the boot of the Jeep beside the new mattress. Malik booted Kala up, slapping her rump. She squeaked as she toppled over in surprise.

Yugi pouted.

"Why don't I get that type of treatment? I am the vertically challenged one here, you know."

Malik offered his clasped hands. "Your skinny butt isn't as gorgeous, but if you insist."

Cracking a laugh Yugi grabbed Malik's shoulders, enjoying the feeling of the heavy thrust from the Egyptians' strong arms as he bounced into the back of the Jeep, joining Kala in the tangle of gear. Together they scrambled about, making room for Malik and Ryou's far larger frames as the two joined them upon the mattress.

Malik slammed down the boot as Joey revved the engines. Sol's high-pitched voice happily wailed an old Scottish sailor's tune as they began the tough trip through the mangled high-way as far as it could take them.

Ryou had found a book in his scavenging, which was not surprising really; of all the things Raiders left behind it was usually books.

"Hey, Ryou?" Yugi disturbed him anyway, despite the peaceful look on his face, "Have you ever heard of a place called Hedingham Keep?"

Ryou's brow creased as he turned a page. "No, I cannot say I have. Why? Is it a possible place we could head? Do you have any bearings?"

Yugi shook his head, leaning back. "England, somewhere."

"That is very helpful." Kala muttered. She had rested across the mattress, head upon Malik's lap. Malik brushed aside her bangs with his free hand; the other clasped tight his weapon as the Jeep bounced over the harsh terrain.

"Better than nothing," he mused.

Yugi nodded, curling himself up beside Ryou. His gaze drifted to the windows and the passing world speeding by.

Hedingham, was it real—was that Knight real? Surely there had to be a safe place for his family out there somewhere.

Did hope exist?

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It had been weeks since Yami's last '_episode'_ as he and Isis had decided to call them. They were not dreams, they had concluded, far more like stints in a different sphere of sub-time. She had not spoken at length about her brother and he had dared not push her on the subject that brought about such pain in her eyes.

She was, after all, like a mother to him, and causing her any type of pain was cruel and unjust even when the unanswered questions grated at him.

Isis had, however, touched briefly on Little Yugi—she fondly called him—Doctor Solomon Motou, and the quest to find the Dragon Pharaoh. Doctor Motou was why she was alive; because he had given her money to study abroad in England and when the first Dragon attacks had come she had been in the country-side, with him, safe, but sorrowful for her lost family.

Little Yugi was Doctor Motou's grandson, and she recalled him as a ball of radiant sunlight; bright, happy and dirty, always dirty. Vaguely, he had the same memory—just—hazier and from a very far off distance and then, he was not even sure if it was real or not.

Overall, that description pretty much described the strange man in his night-time episodes in one word; dirty.

It was the whole Dragon Pharaoh thing that really got to him though. Some kind of mystical legend foretelling of the rise of an ancient king from some lost civilization that had welded great powers over the beasts through the binding of a soul ritual.

What utter hogwash!

Seriously, he had not heard anything more ridiculous—

Yami kicked a rock hard, watching it bounce across the courtyard. This was stupid, he was debating about some old mythological king who had super-powers over Dragons, and calling such a thing impossible when he lived in a world full of mystical beasts and only decades ago that would have been sheer madness was madness in itself.

He should not have been mocking Isis' story. After all, apparently this Doctor Motou and his associates thought it was real enough go poking about in old temples for the hero-king.

And look at him, he was having wild maybe-not-dreams about some not-damsel in a far of distant Scotland! What was next on his list, was he going to sprout wings to go with his funky-dunky eyes? Yami scrunched up his face, giving a long groan. He collapsed against a tree and stared skyward. Seto had made it a rather pleasant day, it was just a pity that he knew that it was fake and all the work of a dome surrounding Hedingham. Out there, somewhere was Yugi, possibility fighting for his life and here he was admiring a beautiful fake day.

"Hey! Temmy!"

Yami spun about, catching Bakura's shout. The white knight was pounding down the stairs from the main keep, looking strangely flustered. His heart picked up pace, not liking anything that could have made his stout knight rattled.

"What is it?" His hand went to his sword, gripping the hilt tight.

"Your old man wants us! Something about Edinburgh, Dragons…and Lord Pegasus."

Yami hissed. Lord Pegasus could kiss his shiny boots and then get one in the rear end out the front door. "What is it this time, that toad-faced moron had better not be trying to weseal his way into my father's favors again. I swear I string him over the battlements in a noose!"

"I wish." Bakura clapped him in the backside, "Come on! Move it. News from Edinburgh."

"Alright, alright."

Into the deep unground network of hollowed out caverns he lead Bakura, past the guards that stood aloft and straight at their posts, dressed in the purple frocks of Hedingham colors. Why his father's chambers had to be so far removed from the rest of the community he would never really know. He much rather preferred to be amongst the thrall of the mayhem, to feel how the people felt, but then he and his father never saw anything the same way.

Thrusting open the door Yami staggered on its weight, feeling Bakura catch the heavy wooden logs before they could bounce back on him. Heat flushed out and Yami crinkled his nose at the scents of burning wood. The large fire place lit the circular chamber, scattered with books and the most glorious array of equipment of things before Tribulation. At least he could say that about Atum, his father had a nose for collecting interesting things.

"Father? You summoned me."

"Atemu, Bakura. Good, good, come in, quickly."

The door swung shut behind them with a clatter. Yami slandered up to the chairs near the large table Atum sat before. Already three of his knights were present; Maiden Serenity Wheeler,

Ryuji Otogi and Tristan Honda—they simply seemed to be missing their resident wizard, but he highly doubted Seto would ever come out of his dungeon-lair for any reason.

Taking a seat beside Serenity Yami managed a weak smile just for her. She returned it before they all turned their attention to his father as he cleared his throat.

"Edinburgh, was taken out about two months." Atum propped his hands upon the table.

"Father," Yami choked, "Why…why did you not speak about this sooner?"

Two months! Truly! His father had not thought that this type of news would not have been important for him to know about? Sometimes he just wanted to shake the man.

"I have been calculating our odds."

Yami sat back in his chair. Calculating their odds, what a load of rot, his father had been withholding information from him deliberately. How many of the other court officials had known about this! Had Seto known? Surely his wizard had known, so what had his father done this time to bribe Seto into not speaking.

"Damn!" Bakura spat. "Edinburgh was the last city to hold out. We are so screwed."

"We don't know about Dublin." Serenity offered. "Dublin radioed only a month back with an update."

"That's bloody Ireland, may as well be the other side of the stinking world," Tristan griped. "There ain't a ship worthy enough to sail anyone anywhere! Not that you'd try with the storms the nuclear winds are kicking up."

Atum raised his hand, stalling the conversation. "It is grave news, but we shall continue to prevail. I expect you all to perform your duties unwaveringly. Especially in light of what is coming…"

Yami felt his skin prickle, his hairs freckling at the sight of his father's drawn brow. When had he last seen this look—had it been back in the days the Dragons had first arisen? Surely it had not been that long ago and surely whatever it was now could not be so devastating on the edge of the news about Edinburgh.

Atum breathed in deeply. "What I am about to tell you does not leave this room, am I clear."

Yami watched his knight's nod solemnly.

"Edinburgh's last radio signal was a warning. I am not quite sure what to make of it, but it was clear that whatever hit them hit fast and without mercy. It came on the front of a nuclear storm, a Dragon of Shadows…that was their message, a Dragon of Shadows."

His seat could have been made of iron spikes, grating into his thighs, but Yami wanted to launch right out of the chair. Everything he wore was suddenly too tight, or maybe he was suddenly too big. The room was too hot, and the air was too thin.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Ryuji snorted. He flopped back with an eye roll. "Dragons made of shadows, whatever will be next, mutant spiders as big as houses!"

"Do not mock the dying words of Edinburgh, Ryuji." Atum reprimanded. "We have known for a long time that in the beginning only one Dragon rose from the deep, that Dragon was first described by the media was being covered in smoke and mist."

"Yeah, who believed the media then, and who believes it now." Ryuji stood, "If you're not going to tell me that I'm going out to slay something or to lop some heads of, milord, then I'm outta here. Boo-hoo for the Scots! We're still here, and we'll stay here."

"Sit down Ryuji!" Yami pointed at the chair, dropping his tone. "My Father has not finished."

Ryuji raised his hands in innocence and slipped back into his chair. Snapping at his knights was unusual, but his mood was sorely in a very bad state. He despised it when his father kept anything that was of vital importance to the protection of their community from him.

"This message from Edinburgh went out to many of the outlying communities, not just our own. I do not know how many caught it, but I do know that the Southernvale Court did."

"Pegasus." Serenity gasped. Her hand flung out, grabbing Yami's thigh in a vice grip. He brushed her paling skin gently. There was nothing he could do to get rid of her memories, or to sooth her trembling, he could only be a solid friend.

"Yes. He contacted me yesterday….in…light of Edinburgh…it seems that…Pegasus has…taken it upon himself to bring under his fold the smaller communities in the area. He has already amassed a rather large army."

"Army?" Bakura pulled a face. "What in all Seven Hells does he need an army for?"

"To fight other communities I suppose." Serenity pouted.

"Like us?" Bakura jutted a finger at himself, "We have what, fifty men in our vanguard? Plus the farmers if we made them take up arms, that'd maybe make eighty. Fat lot of good that'd be."

"Pegasus has asked us, very kindly, if we would like to be a part of his growing territory." Atum poured himself a glass of wine. "We would pay taxes of courses."

"Is he calling himself a king or something?" Tristan bent forward, "Great, just what we needed, Pegasus pretending to be a king. Soon he'll be creating his own religion and calling himself a god."

"What is it that you want us to do, Father?" Yami sighed.

"I want you to go out and see what Pegasus is up too, see how many men he has in this so called '_army'_ of his. If you believe, Yami, that we can hold our own, then I will not agree to his terms. However, if in fact it is for the better of our community to join with Pegasus for the time being then I will not risk an all-out war and loose Hedingham to that pompous man." Atum curled his lips in distaste.

Yami slowly stood. "As you wish, Father." He inclined his head, turned sharply and strolled free of the tight atmosphere of the room. Leaving Hedingham—did his father truly know what he was asking? He and his knights were the few good Dragon Slayers amongst a hand-full of fighters. If Seto's shield was ever displaced, if the energy their wizard had somehow managed to uncover grew unstable, then they were all that stood between Hedingham and the nightmares of the beasts.

Yet truthfully, were the Dragons their only enemies. Not anymore it seemed. Maybe the Dragons were growing less bold and the Humans more so.

He gritted his teeth. Pegasus, how dare he make promises to poor communities, how dare he raise an army he would never be able to feed.

Serenity's hand grabbed his own, holding him tight. "Don't jump ahead to conclusions, Yami. Until we know for sure what is going on out there, you cannot begin to analyze anything in that thick head of yours."

"How did you know I was analyzing anything?" he scoffed.

"You were this funny scowl on your face when you're thinking." She grinned, pinching his cheek. Yami shook his head, peering back over his knights as Bakura heaved shut the doors to the office. He was glad it was over, speaking to his father in such a manner was always such a formal affair.

"Well," Tristan slouched against the wall, "we're dead."

"You can stay behind if you like." Yami offered, "Look after my idiot father."

"And leave you, the other idiot, out there beyond the black stump, all alone?" Tristan mocked, "Without my handsome face? No thanks."

"I've got Serenity, she's prettier than you." Yami hugged her around the middle, lifting her high. "And bouncier."

"For that comment, Atemu Amir, you'll never see me naked again." She clapped his head sharply.

"Alas, to me is lost one of the great seven wonders of the ruined world." Yami struck his chest, going down on one knee and taking her hand. "Forgive me, fair Maiden so fine."

"Ah, yeah, no, your highness. Goodnight my lovely boys." Flourishing a wave she strolled down the stairs, "See you bright and early for a weapons check."

Tristan jogged after her, "Wait! Wait, I'll escort you."

"I haven't a need for an escort, Tristan," the howl replied.

Ryuji chuckled, "When will that guy learn, Serenity is totally into me!" He spread his hands in a wave, fanning his slender body.

"Hell no," Bakura shoved him aside, "you're a womanizer, pull another leg. Come on Temu, I'm hitting the showers before bed, do you want me to drag you there or not?"

"Coming." Yami sighed, "Night Ryuji."

"Come on your highness, don't look so sodden," Ryuji called out after them, "Think of it as an adventure. We'll just get killed half way there!"

"Shut up, you whore!" Bakura snapped back.

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Surprisingly the shower had actually been a good idea. Though Bakura usually did have good ideas once in a while; the kind that did not end him up half way down a ditch, or with his head between his knees vomiting up alcohol. The warm water had taken the edge off his headache, and the tension that the news of Edinburgh's demise had bought.

Staggering into their conjoint room Yami collapsed into his creaking bed, hiding a long yawn under his arm.

"Pegasus is a nasty man, Bakura." He stared at the ceiling, drawing lines of long-lost stars. It had been years had since he had seen stars in the night sky. Would he see them when they left Hedingham, was it possible through the pollution of Dragon ash and the storm-clouds?

"Ah yeah," came with muffled reply as Bakura stripped off his dirty shirt and threw it aside. He stretched, flourishing a long sigh. "Reason number one that we should try and kill the guy off before he goes on to rule half of the land from under us."

"I have a really bad feeling." Yami rolled around, snuggling into his covers, "This Dragon of Shadows nonsense, Pegasus trying to rise up an army…I mean…" he stared blankly at the wall, "…is it too much to ask just to live out our lives surviving silently and quietly in our castle?"

Bakura's bed rattled as he clambered into it. The candle was blown out between them and darkness enveloped the room. Yami closed his eyes, welcoming the peace, glad for Bakura's warm company.

"Temu, we are never going to live happily, we're in a world where Dragons roam free, where world-leaders screwed up and blasted our own planet raw with radiation. We have got to do whatever it takes to make sure what we protect gets through this hell. If getting to Pegasus before he gets to us does that, then I'll kill a hundred of him, no problem."

Yami crumpled deeper into his pillow. He had no doubt about it, Bakura would indeed kill anyone and everything in his path and truthfully, that was why his father was sending him and his knights out into the wilderness beyond Hedingham, because they were capable of living in this world gone mad. His father could not do it; he would never raise a hand to Pegasus—

That was _his_ job.

And he hated himself for it.

He truly, really did.

A part of him just did not want to be the man he was—he was better than this—he was more.

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0

_Yami stirred._

_He was here again; in the strange zone without time. Beautiful and majestic in its peaceful serenity, making him feel as though everything that had transpired over the last weeks was worlds away. _

_"We have got a serious stalker problem, Handsome. This is three times in a row now that you've come maundering into my sleep like you own the place."_

_Perky and sarcastic, he should not have been the least bit surprised at the voice from behind. Though it did make him smile faintly, not that he would have allowed it to show as he turned to view Yugi Motou perched upon a gray rock, picking dirt from under his fingernails with a long knife. _

_He gulped. Damn. Now he knew it was possible for someone to look relaxed and dangerous at the same time._

_Yugi glanced up, tapping his temple with the tip of his knife, "Three nights in a row. You're getting annoying."_

_Yami frowned. No. Three nights in a row, that was impossible. It had been far more than three nights since he had begun having these odd episodes. He took a careful stroll across what felt like asphalt under his boots. Odd—he was half undressed. He must never have fully come to the stage of taking off his boots before falling asleep. _

_"You're mistaken, it has been at least a few weeks since I last saw you."_

_"Nope," Yugi threw the blade and Yami flinched as it squarely struck the ground between his legs, stalling his approach. _

_A dark smirk crept over Yugi's pursed lips as he lifted himself off the rock and slid down, "Last night I accused you of being a Dragon, cause of your pretty jeweled eyes. Tonight, I have this intense desire to pluck them out." _

_Yami held up both hands, "Whoa…okay…Yugi…before you…ah…get to that…could we maybe…talk like civilized men." Backing away Yami felt for his sword, his chest flattened in the realization that it was, for damnable sake, not at his side. He was half naked in front of a rather exhausted looking, crazy, half-starved Dragon slaying man._

_"Whoever said that I was civilized? If you're a dream of the Shadow Dragon all…humanized…then this is the perfect opportunity for me to live out of my fantasies and beat the crud out of you." _

_Oh for the love of all things holy, this little man was dead-honest. It was clear in his eyes; he was going to kill._

_Yami bolted. Too quickly he was under attack, a blade striking swift to his chest. He blocked, ducking and punching. Yugi moved like a tiny feline, around him and under him and over him and it took every ounce of concentration to keep track of his movements. _

_Yami ignored the blood as his skin was sliced. He snatched a fast grip on the arm that came to close, nails clawing at bare skin in a very gratifying manner he used his far heavier weight and height to his advantage, dragging the smaller body under him and crushing the hands that gripped the weapons. _

_He twisted, vaulting the body over himself. Yugi swung up a leg, collecting his left side. Yami spat blood as he met the ground, dazed for the briefest of moments. Yugi was scrambling for his weapon. With a launch Yami threw himself on the young man, pinning him down._

_"What can I do to prove to you that I am real? That I am not some kind of terrible beast—"_

_Yugi snarled, "Let me gouge out your fraking eyes!" _

_"I am not a Dragon, I am a man!"_

_"Yeah," Yugi smirked, "I know, and if you don't get off me, in a couple seconds you won't all one anymore!" _

_A spike of panic speared down his spine and he reared backward, scrambling away and onto his feet. It took a brief moment to realize his belt was gone. Yugi sat upright, twirling it about with a sinister, gloating leer._

_"How did you do that?" Yami grabbed for the sash._

_Yugi threw it back at him. _

_"Seriously? I've survived in this doomsday hell-hole my whole adult-life, you don't think I am fully equipped to handle big men like you straddling me? Please!" He blew a rasp, "Okay, you've proven that you're not a Dragon."_

_"I have?" Yami paused, his belt forgotten. He peered up, watching as Yugi snatched up his hidden blades, storing them back into allocated spots, keenly he made note of each position. Next time they sparred, which he was sure there would be a next time, he would remember just how deadly this tiny, subtle man was._

_Yugi waved a hand about, "Yes. A Dragon, whether imaginary or not, always…and I mean always…goes for the kill…if you were the Shadow Dragon, in my head, you would try to kill me. There is no point of me imaging a dream that does not abide by the rules of nature. So, you're Human…"_

_He sat back on his rock, "Now who the hell are you and what are you doing haunting my sleep?"_

_"I told you," Yami sighed, rubbing his temples, "I am Sir Yami of Hedingham Keep and…I…think…that…well…I…I'm only making a guess here, but I think this…" he peered around the eerie dreamscape, "…could possibly be a pocket of space-time that only we are sharing." _

_The man in front of him snorted a soft laugh, "Right. Space-time. Go fart someplace else." He stood abruptly, "I'm leaving, Handsome." _

_"Wait! Okay! I can prove this!" Yami grabbed his arm. The glare he received was worthy of death but he did not release his grasp. Dragons were barely as frightening as this incredible little man, and he had faced Dragons before, but never a man who was worthy of being far more terrifying than one. Not even Pegasus could hold that honor in his heart._

_"You said before that I've being haunting your dreams every night for three nights."_

_"This is the third night, yes." _

_"It's been two months since the first episode, when I first saw you. See, time is flowing differently between us." _

_"Doesn't prove anything." Yugi tugged his arm free, folding them stoutly across his chest. He raised an eyebrow. "Next you'll be proclaiming yourself a time-traveler." _

_Yami slumped onto the rock, "You are exhausting."_

_"So they say."_

_"You know, it was a really awful afternoon, learning that Edinburgh was destroyed by some freaky Dragon…that Pegasus is raising an army," threading his hands through his hair Yami rested back, "I could have done with a good night sleep. Instead I get beaten up by a madman—"_

_"What are you talking about," Yugi pulled a face, "Edinburgh was lost years ago. If it wasn't, we'd be heading there right now instead of larking about like idiots." _

_Years ago—what did he mean by years ago? Yami stared around the surroundings, his mouth falling open. Was that it? Was that why there was a slight change in their time differences and how often would it happen—no—he was getting too far ahead of himself! _

_Was this young man, bitter and oh-so jaded, from the future—his future! A future where Edinburgh was already long gone?_

_"How old are you…" Yami choked weakly._

_Yugi snorted, "What kind of stupid question is that—"_

_He pressed the point, "What year is it?"_

_"Why do you want to know—"_

_"Yugi! Please, will you just…answer my question, you tried to cut off my balls so will you just answer me? How old are you?"_

_"I donno, thirty or something." Yugi rubbed his brow, suddenly looking the mildest bit sheepish. "I stopped recording my birthday a damned long time ago."_

_"So you don't know what year it is?"_

_Yugi held out his hands, "Far out, fine! It's gotta be twenty-thirty-two or thereabout. Happy now!"_

_"You're ahead of me," Yami collapsed forward, "I don't believe it…you're living ahead of me, I mean, it isn't by much, but you're ahead of me by four years, if you're right about the date."_

_"How the fudging-cakes do you know that?" _

_Yami groaned, rubbing his thumbs into his eyes. How strange it was to feel so tired inside of this weird sub-world. He wondered if he was going to wake up rested or even more exhausted than he already had been. "Because according to Isis, we should be the same age, in fact, we even have the same birthday." _

_"Now, you are just being really annoying." Yugi pointed a blade to his temple. _

_"Fourth of June right?"_

_"Yeah, so?" Yugi shrugged. "Chances are, in the population of the world, someone is going to end up with my birthday, congrads, you got it. Whooo, party." With a snort the man stood, flapping his arms about. "Now excuse me, but I'm going to go and catch some sleep instead of dreaming of some stupid moron with Dragon eyes." _

_Yami snatched his shoulder. It was maybe not the smartest thing to do, considering the fact that he ended up on his back, with the breath knocked out of him, and a blade to this throat. He had about five seconds to say something really marvelous before he was killed, he imagined, by this insane survivor. _

_"Your grandfather was Solomon Motou. He was part of a secret society called the Inklings, along with Arthur Hawkins and Albert Bakura, they researched the existence of the Dragon Pharaoh and the fallen nation of Atlantis, right?" he rambled out as quickly as possible. _

_Yugi's eyes widened considerably and the grip around his middle loosened. "How do you…how do you know…?"_

_Yami relaxed as the blade to his throat was gently eased away. Yugi did not pull off him though, the slender man simply sat back in a slump, looking dazed and distant, his mind seemingly traveling far back to memories of some distant place he had locked away._

_"My father funded the Inklings research, he…ah…funded a lot of things back in the days before the Dragons." _

_"Mr. Amir," Yugi whispered, touching his lips._

_Yami brightened. "Yes! My father, that is my father." _

_"You're his son." Yugi twisted, looking down at him in mild alarm._

_"Yes."_

_"I always thought you were a girl!" Yugi snorted a sudden laugh. "Sheesh, you turned into a real dude." He waved his knife around. "With balls and everything."_

_"Considering where you are currently sitting, don't mock me." Yami sharply spun. Yugi squeaked in alarm as Yami pinned his shoulders. _

_"You can even fight." Yugi coughed. _

_"Thanks," Yami droned wearily, "so, you know who I am now, right?"_

_"A girly-man."_

_"Look who's talking."_

_"Bark up your own tree, Handsome." _

_"How can I be girly and handsome?"_

_"I know a handsome girl." Yugi attempted a shrug, despite his pinned shoulders, "Depends on the situation I suppose."_

_"You are the weirdest—"_

_"Now, now, don't insult the person with the knife aimed at your jewels." _

_"Damn it, Yugi!" Yami leapt up, scrambling away from the leering little devil who carefully peeled himself off the dusty ground, chuckling as though he was in some type of game. He propped his chin on the palm of his hand, cocking his head to one side thoughtfully._

_"Alright, so you are Mr. Amir's son…that still doesn't explain to me why you are dream-stalking me, or what you are going on about with timey-whimy stuff." _

_Yami pinched the bridge of his nose. "It has to have something to do with what my father and your grandfather was doing, right?"_

_"Hell if I know. I was a kid at the time. I saw some freaky Dragon rise from the grave and the world plunges into chaos because my loony grandfather awoke some ancient curse or what-not. I feel like shit, thank you very much. That's as much as I want to think about it." _

_"Fair enough." Pressing the issue now was not going to get him anywhere, that was rather clear. _

_"Can you at least tell me anything about the future?" Yami held out his hand in offering. Yugi gazed at it for a moment before carefully taking it and allowing himself to be hoisted onto his feet. _

_"Four years…well…you really wouldn't think that'd make much of a difference but," Yugi frowned, "you'd be surprised, it does. I swear time goes faster in this crazy world of ours." _

_"I know." Yami sighed._

_"So, Edinburgh was just attacked…" Yugi mused._

_"A couple months ago, from my father's words, yes."_

_The young man sucked in a deep breath. "Okay, according to that…you're in for a hell of a storm. Don't go outside. I mean it, don't leave your Hedingham whatever you call your castle. Buckle down the hatches. It will last for at least three months. When it clears, what you will discover will have destroyed everything you ever accepted."_

_"This is kind of doing that." Yami waved between them._

_"You have not seen anything yet. Be prepared for hell."_

_"I thought I was in hell."_

_"Well, one level of hell, you'll enter the next level of hell." _

_"Seven levels of hell…right…" Yami scratched the back of his neck. "I see." _

_"Glad you do."_

_"Do you know of a Pegasus?"_

_"Can't say I have heard of any flying horses as a mutation." _

_"No," Yami chuckled, "he is a man. He is trying to gain power here in our little section of England."_

_"Ah," Yugi frowned, "I see. He's one of those types; he thinks he can bring about unity and a new beginning etc. etc. Very amusing. No, I have no heard of anyone called Pegasus…however I will keep an ear out since we are moving into England." _

_Yami shook his head, "I hope he doesn't survive the next four years, if he does, then everything I plan on doing fails."_

_"Why?" Yugi turned, looking directly up at him, his entire attention was suddenly focused on his eyes. Yami faltered. It was uncanny, having the undivided attention of the intense gaze staring at him, as though it was peering straight into the center of his entire being. _

_"Well, I have to leave Hedingham…my father has ordered me and my knights to find out what Pegasus is doing and if he is amassing an army, to kill him—"_

_Yugi thrust his dagger between his legs again. Yami automatically yelped as the dagger hit the ground._

_"Didn't I just tell you, Handsome, DO NOT GO OUTSIDE. Take it or leave it!" He marched off, leaving the slender blade where it was. _

_Yami remained frozen, staring after the graceful man as his shape began to dissipate. Yugi turned ever so slightly, a small, weak smile gracing his lips._

_"It gets worse, Handsome, much worse. If you survive the four years between us, then maybe you'll be worth something to me, my pretty-boy." _


End file.
